Alexander IV
by Baliansword
Summary: NEW CHAPTERS. For 16 years Cassander has hidden Hercules Alexandros from the world, the true heir to the Empire in constant danger. However, Hercules must now learn the lessons of a king, while Cassander hopes teh youth does not cross him.
1. Prologue

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 1 of ?, "Prologue: The Son"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**A/N#2: Yes, this might seem familiar. I posted it once before, but only finished five of 12 chapters, so I pulled it off. I'm going to finish it now! Please bear with me, and thanks for understanding! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

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…_Greece, 316 BC… _

It was early morning when the buck made its appearance in the grove. Dark eyes scanned the area as the animal made its way closer. Silently it approached the brook and bent its head to drink, all the while unaware that it was being stalked. With practiced moves the youth crept closer, holding his bow in one hand firmly. He stopped, perched behind an ample gray rock, and then raised his bow. His hand did not tremble, not as it would have done had another held such a strong bow, but instead stilled. As he drew in a soft breath, the last preparation before he was to let go of the arrow, he heard loud footfalls approaching. Instinctively the buck arched its head, snorted, then trotted off. It was then that he cursed and rose. Why was it that Pallas Athene cursed him so?

"Hercules," a voice called. Immediately he knew that he should have remained hidden. His younger sister, by opportunity not blood, continued her search for him. Each step she took seemed louder and constantly she stepped upon fallen branches, snapping twigs that would startle even deaf animals. He slung his bow over his shoulder before leaving his hiding spot. As he approached the brook he knelt and cupped his hands. He took a drink and then glanced over his shoulder at the young girl, now smiling beyond rationality, that bounded toward him.

Today she wore a simple soft green dress and sandals. The color seemed to compliment her, although he hated it still. Her long wavy hair was a pale brown, the color of wet sand almost, and blew gently in the wind. It reminded him of her father. They had the same hair undoubtedly. Her eyes were a light green though, a mix between her mother's emerald eyes and her father's gray. All in all she was a rather cute child, always smiling, but at the same time she had no reason not to smile.

"What are you doing Hercules," she asked. He noted then how innocent she truly was. In a month she would be eleven, five years less his age now. He wondered if he had been so sweet as a child, but alas could not really remember. He did not recall most of his youngest years, merely because he did not wish to. Also, he'd been told not to.

"Go away Leassandra," he finally replied, angered by her interruption. Had she not come he would have easily been able to kill that buck. What a prize it would have been, to bring home such a feast for his table. Damn women, they always ruined greatness. "I mean it too, go away. I have nothing to say to you."

"I know you do not mean that," she answered as she came closer. Before he could stop her she was sitting next to him at the brook. She took her sandals off and dipped her feet in the water. Hercules merely turned his eyes upon her, glaring, and wondered if he was at all related to Medusa. Apparently he was not, for she just kept smiling.

"I do. You have just robbed me of any glory I could have had this week."

"Father has told you before," she laughed. "'_Hercules, you cannot have glory in every waking moment. If you did, then you would forget to sleep, which you do plenty enough of.'_ I remember it all. He says it to you constantly."

"Do you not remember when he told you that you needed to be a proper lady?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing wandering the woods, alone no doubt. I've told you, it is dangerous out here. If Cassander knew that you were out here he would have you whipped, really. This is foolish. Come, I must get you back."

"Why do you call him by his name," Leassandra asked as Hercules grabbed her forearm and pulled her up. He knelt, putting on her sandals for her, and sighed. Once again he knew that he could not answer. Instead he stood, took her hand, and led her back up the trail. Still, she went on. "I mean it Hercules, why do you always call father Cassander. I know that it is not because you are a boy, because I asked mother, and she told me that all boys called their fathers 'father'."

"Syrikriah is wise," he noted. "I can see that you are her little messenger, no? Look at me Leassandra, good, now listen because I don't want to tell you this again. I call father Cassander because I find it to be respectful, and I will call mother Syrikriah. Just let me, alright?"

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes while she did so. She had her father's attitude, but someday Hercules knew she would possess the beauty of her mother. As they made their way back to the palace Hercules still found himself wondering about his own mother. He could recall her name, and sometimes he thought he could remember her voice, her smell, and even what she looked like. Still, he was not sure. When it came to his father, well, he was not even entirely sure of his father's name, to say the least. If he were to believe what Cassander wanted then he was the son of Alexander III of Macedon and Hephaestion Amyntor. Alas, he decided that at the moment he would be no one's son. Instead he would just be Hercules. This did not give him much though, because still he had no purpose in life it seemed. His friends in the court were already becoming warriors, blacksmiths, or what they would. He was nothing.

When they reached the palace it was not hard to give Leassandra to her nurse. Hercules watched her go and then made his way to Cassander's business chambers. He knew well enough that Cassander would be going through affairs of the state but could care less about interrupting him. He pushed through the doors without a second glance from the guards, and as they shut he stared at Cassander, who barely glanced up. Already he knew what the boy before him looked like. He was the perfect mold of Alexander, strong, determined, a dirty blond fair headed child. Yet he was also the perfect mold of Hephaestion, wise, loving, with a soul captured behind cerulean eyes. All in all he could be the son of either, but Cassander had convinced himself he was the son of both. Still, even though natures from Alexander and Hephaestion passed through him, he was raised as his own child.

"What is it Hercules," asked Cassander. He even found himself setting down the parchment he'd been holding. Hercules crossed the room, angered, but still calm and collected. That was the only problem with having characteristics of Alexander and Hephaestion, the two could be molded together. It was clear to see that Hercules was furious, just as Alexander sometimes appeared, yet at the same time he was collected like Hephaestion and could pass his anger off as nothing. It was almost unbearable.

"Why am I here," he asked.

"I am not sure," Cassander mocked. "I did not send for you, and you have not yet told me. Tell me, Hercules, why are you here?"

"I mean in Athens," he hissed. "I mean what am I doing here, with you. There is no point of me being here if I am of no use to you, and I know I'm no use to you. So what am I doing here? For years I have masqueraded as your son, but now I must know. Is there a point to any of this Cassander?"

"What has you so upset?"

"Everything! All of my friends are training to become something, and what am I to become Cassander? You tell me time and time again that I am built for war, but you later say you do not want me fighting. Then you go on to tell me I could be a philosopher, but you still do not send me to become one. What is my purpose!"

"Sit down," Cassander finally said. Hercules did as he was asked and sat, still wondering what exactly was so important about him. Two years ago he'd been told the story of Alexander's campaigns, and he knew what being his son meant. It meant death, because no other would want him gaining control of the empire. If he was Hephaestion's son it was no better. Being Cassander's bastard child was fine, he guessed, but was little better than being a servant. He'd been in Athens for years now, since Alexander's death, and still he was nothing. He tried to calm himself by drawing in a breath, and Cassander continued to stare at him. He would be forty soon, but Hercules noted that he'd not changed in appearance in all of the years he'd known him.

"Hercules," Cassander said as he sat on the edge of his desk. "Hercules, you come from circumstances that are hard to explain. I know, I know. I've told you for years that someday you would rival the myths of your father, and still here you are. Which is why I have a proposition for you."

"What?"

"I am aging, and still I have only two children. Should anything happen to me Leassandra is a daughter, and she will never rule. However, Arast is too young. So both of my children are of no use to me, or to Greece, should I be killed or die. Hercules, you have pretended to be my son, and so I have put instructions for it to be announced that you are my heir."

"Me?"

"Yes, but there will be struggles with this."

"You mean my life will be in danger," he asked with a smirk. He then shook his head. "Cassander, thank you, but it all still seems rather pointless. I am not your son, not when it comes to blood. Surely Ptolemy still is nagging at you. He wants to prove that I'm not yours, as he always has. Besides, you're not dying. You're forty. There is quite a difference."

"I won't give it to Arast."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only child I am proud of," Cassander admitted quietly. "You are not even mine, but yes, you are the only child that I have raised and have been proud of. Leassandra is beautiful, yes, but raising a daughter is worth nothing. You can raise all of the daughters you want, but still, they will go to another family. Then there is Arast, and he is a beautiful boy, but he is not cunning like you. He trusts too much. If I die and he inherits this parcel of land, this meager piece of what your father worked for his entire life, what I worked for, then it will belong to Ptolemy shortly after. You, Hercules, are the heir to this empire. It only makes sense that first you control Greece."

"Cassander…"

"Beginning tomorrow you will start your training, as Alexander, Hephaestion, I, and the rest of the Companions did. You're older, yes, but you know enough. Yes, you were built for war, but also you carry a mind far more capable than the minds of philosophers. Tomorrow you will become a prince."

"And have you told your family about this? Syrikriah already dislikes me because she thinks I'm the jewel of one of your long lost conquests. If she doesn't know…she'll have me killed Cassander. If I take the place of her, your, son…"

"Hercules," Cassander said, cutting him off. "I want you to go now. Tomorrow we will talk."

"Fine…"

Cassander watched him go and then sat back in his chair. He watched as his son, for in truth he did love him like a son, left him. For years he had planned for Hercules to reclaim his empire, what belonged to him, but for the first time he worried. He remember what had happened to those that followed Alexander. Hephaestion, perhaps the only man or woman he could have ever loved, was now dead, as was Alexander. The empire was broken. It had all fallen apart, and all he had to show for it was a chunk of land and that boy. He did not want to lose him, no, he could not lose him. The empire was broken, and it was Hercules' to piece back together. Come tomorrow the healing would begin.

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A/N: Let me know what you think. This is just a bit of a teaser chapter, meaning the next chapter will be much better. This is just a set up for what is to come. Review!


	2. Lesson One

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 1 of 12, "Lesson One"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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It was far too early to have been awake when suddenly Hercules felt the cold water spilling over him. He jumped up, gasping, and wiped his wet hair away from his eyes. As he opened his eyes he saw Cassander placing the pitcher back down on its stand. All the while Cassander seemed content with his actions. Hercules next leapt from the bed, and Cassander put a finger to his own lips, symbolizing silence. He then smirked, dropping his hand, and laughed quietly. Without much more of an explanation he tossed a chiton to Hercules and waited for him to dress. Hercules did, and then followed Cassander out of the room. He noticed as he walked down the hallways that outside it was just sunrise, and it was still a bit too cold for him to feel comfortable walking without his sandals. He carried them with him, for Cassander had already looked impatient.

"There are six lessons that I can teach you," Cassander explained as they stepped out into the newly lit world. Cassander continued down a path until he reached an unmarked one. He turned and Hercules tried to keep up with him, almost tripping as he slid his sandals on. "These six lessons will help you, because from them you can solve every problem. Some time ago they were passed on to me, and to your father."

"By who," Hercules asked as he slipped into the other sandal. Cassander did not slow once for him, merely kept walking. He knew that Hercules could keep up with him, and did not worry. "And if you don't mind, can you tell me which father you're speaking of."

"Pick one," he answered. "And Cleitus, a very skilled warrior, taught us these lessons in part. Aristotle taught us the rest I suppose."

"Cleitus sounds familiar. Have you mentioned him before?" Hercules stopped abruptly as Cassander glanced over his shoulder, eyeing him with a slight glare. Hercules swallowed, suddenly recalling the name. Alexander had killed Cleitus at Scamander for defying him, and for calling him a tyrant. He nodded then and followed Cassander once more, who made no further remark upon the subject. Hercules silently prayed to Athene that she could make him a bit wiser or at least a bit quicker when it came to the history of his lineage.

"Alright," Cassander said, stopping in an open field. Hercules glanced around, wondering what this was all about. Cassander then pulled out a small staff, no longer than his wrist to elbow, and held it in his hand. Hercules stood silently, skeptically, and patiently.

"Disarm me," Cassander instructed.

"You must be joking."

"And why is that?"

"You want me to take a stick away from you? Forgive me, but I think you've woken too early. How is this a lesson?"

"When you disarm me," Cassander stated, "I will tell you what lesson you have learned. However, first, you must take it from me. Now, let us see what your instructors have taught you. Come, take it from me."

Hercules took a step forward and reached for the staff. With sudden speed, and a precise accuracy, Cassander pulled the staff back and slapped Hercules with his free hand. Hercules cursed, reached for his jaw, and then stepped back. Cassander shrugged but said nothing. Again he held the staff in his hand and waited. This time Hercules lunged forward, throwing his entire body at Cassander. It did him no good though. He succeeded only in forcing Cassander back a few steps, but nothing more. Even when he wrapped his hand around the staff and pulled Cassander seemed stronger. The staff didn't even budge in his hand. Again Hercules took a few steps back. This time before he attacked he crossed his arms over his chest and thought for a moment. Finally he took a few steps forward and grabbed the staff, then merely pulled.

"I'm not that old," Cassander told him as he held firmly to the staff. Hercules pulled again, this time managing to at least get a grunt out of Cassander, but still to no avail. He let go and paced for a moment, anger beginning to flow through his veins.

"There is some sort of a trick," Hercules finally said. "You know well enough that you're strong, but strength can't have anything to do with this can it? I should be stronger, and am, so what is the trick."

"There is no trick," Cassander assured him. "I am just a man, standing before you, holding a staff. You only need to take it away from me, but this seems too much for you. Tell me, is it harder than you thought."

"Yes."

"Good, as king you will need to use not only your power, but your mind. You've made this harder than it should be. Come, take it from me."

Hercules smirked, and then lunged forward. Cassander already knew what he was going to do. First Hercules would grab one of his wrists with his left hand and then he'd wrap his right arm around his neck. Cassander knew that with his right arm he'd try to force his neck against the crook of his elbow, hoping to empower him, and eventually take him to the ground. He knew all of this as Hercules jumped forward, because Hephaestion had done this many times before to him in Mieza. Since he knew what Hercules was going to do it was easy to quickly raise an elbow and elbow him in the back. Hercules cursed, then fell to the ground. Quickly he pushed himself back up, stubbornly, and lunged at him again. Once more Cassander knocked him to the ground using only one hand.

"This cannot be all that they teach you," Cassander finally said with a laugh. "Come, Hercules, you are bred for war. Your body wants to fight, but your mind fights you. What are you going to do, think, or fight?"

"I thought you said to do both," Hercules screamed as he brushed dirt away from a knee. He turned his head and spit, then stared at Cassander.

"You can do both, but very rarely can you do them at the same time. Come on, think, or fight. If you think you don't fight well. If you fight you don't think well. What are you going to do?"

Hercules lunged again, and this time he was Alexander's son. With rage he forced Cassander to the ground and grabbed his arm. He bent it back and tried with his free hand to pull the staff away. Still, he could not. Cassander laughed, much to his dismay, and he yanked at the staff again.

"Just give the damn thing to me," Hercules screamed, and suddenly, the staff was in his hand. Cassander pushed him away then stood before him. He reached down and offered Hercules his hand, which he took, and he let Cassander help him up. Cocking an eyebrow he then said, "I don't understand."

"Lesson one," Cassander announced. "Not all things can be taken by force. To be a king you must be able to think, and fight. Alexander thought before a battle, then fought it. Hephaestion fought before a battle, and thought during one. Each man determines what he is going to do differently. Alexander used instinct when battling, and he won. Hephaestion used his mind, and he won. You, however, someday will do both. Still, sometimes you do not need to fight. I told you to take the staff from me, but never said by force. You merely assumed. Lesson one –not all things can be taken by force."

"That's it," Hercules asked, now confused. "All of that just to tell me that I can ask for things."

"Yes," Cassander said as he began his trek back to the palace. "Not everything has to be complicated Hercules. Some things are easiest when they are simple. Now go, because you will have two more lessons today."

Hercules stopped and watched as Cassander made his way back to the palace. He then glanced at the staff in his hand. He rolled his eyes, and then made his way to the gardens. When he stepped in them he heard the soft sounds of a feminine voice, singing amongst the birds. Silently he crept forward until he stood behind the trunk of a palm tree. From where he was he could see Leassandra perfectly as she sang. He had to admit that she someday would be beautiful, and that someday that voice would snare a man. After a moment she glanced over her shoulder, spotting him easily, and smiled.

"What brings you to the garden," she asked, turning so that she could look upon him. He again crossed his arms over his chest and then shrugged. She seemed older today, but he was not sure why. Respectfully he came forward and finally sat down next to her, facing the fountain she'd been staring at.

"You are up early," he replied finally. "What are you doing, singing to nymphs?"

"No," she laughed. "I just thought that out here I would not be disturbed. Clearly I was wrong." After a moment she turned to him, "I heard that you were with father this morning. What were you doing?"

"He was teaching me a lesson," he answered.

"Truly?"

"Yes. He told me that not everything can be taken by force. I suppose he is right though. Look at Troy; it was never taken by force. Alexander's empire was not taken by force. I suppose there is plenty of history behind it."

"Hercules," she finally said, her tone conflicted. She turned toward him once more and wrung her hands together. "Hercules, might I ask you something?"

"I might not answer," he warned.

"Are you," she began slowly. She stopped, thought something through in her mind, and then went on. "Arast and I love you, truly, as does mother, but might I ask you…your mother is not our mother is what I am trying to say. I just wondered, since you were not born here and all, if you remember what it was like."

"What what was like Lea?"

"Father told me you were born in Persia," she continued. "I've read about it, and father often tells Arast about what happened there. Mother tells us things as well. I just wondered if you could tell me about it. And do you remember Alexander? Surely you would have been old enough to remember him, right?"

"I was seven when Alexander died," Hercules said, recalling at least that from memory. He then thought about it for a moment and cleared his throat. "I guess that I can remember some things. I remember that it rained, a lot, and when the first drops of water hit the earth it smelled fresher than any rain here. The sun was different, brighter perhaps, there as well. Animals you have never seen lived out my back doorstep, and women wore garments that are considered distasteful here. Markets are almost the same, but colors were brighter, and every spice or herb known to man could be found there. I remember those things, but you cannot describe them to someone that does not know them. As for Alexander, I remember seeing him a few times, but not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"I know it was him, but in my memory I cannot tell you everything about him. Once I saw him, he came to visit my mother, but all I remember is that he had long blond hair, calloused hands, and a kind smile. Everything else I've lost I suppose. The last time that I saw him he sat on a bed beside Hephaestion Amyntor, in Ecbatana, and I remember that he cried. I remember Hephaestion's voice, barely, and that he too had trails of tears staining his cheeks. I don't recall much more I suppose. Only that he died when I was seven, and that Cassander brought me back to Greece with him after he passed."

"What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"Well surely you remember her, do you not?"

"No," he said sadly. "I do not remember her well enough either….but she smelled like lavender. Her hands were always soft, and she always had gardenia flowers in the house. She hung them over my crib when I was a child. I can remember that, and that my father left a wooden lion for me to play with. I'm not sure, it was very long ago."

"Father carved you a wooden lion? He's never made anything of the like for Arast."

"Well," Hercules recovered, "it was a long time ago. Perhaps I am mistaken. Maybe there was no lion. Or maybe it belonged to someone else."

"Did father love her, your mother?"

"He loves Syrikriah," he stated. Leassandra seemed pleased with the answer and nodded. She then kicked off her sandals and dipped her feet in the fountain. After a moment she glanced over at him again.

"Someday will you travel there, back to your home?"

"Perhaps."

"If you do," she finally said, "will you take me with you? I promise that I will not be a burden, not at all. I just would like to see the place that mother says father never left."

"What does she say?"

"Oh," she blushed. "Nothing. Just, well you know. From time to time mother talks and she says things that I don't really understand."

"She says father never left Persia?"

"Well," Leassandra sighed. "I'm not sure. Once she was fighting with him and it woke me, so I crept into the hallway. She yelled at him and said he never left Persia. Why, do you know what she meant?"

"No," he answered. "It doesn't matter though."

"They fought the other day," Leassandra announced, "about me."

"Really?"

"Yes. Mother wants me to be married to Ptolemy's son, that curly haired loaf that visited last summer. You remember him, don't you? What was his name, oh yes, Ptoleus. He is your age, so mother says it would be fine to make arrangements for an engagement. Father didn't like the idea I suppose, so they fought about it. Mother told him he was selfish, but he told her that I was his child and he would do with me what he wanted."

"Ignore them," Hercules said. "They are going through a difficult time. Mother wants you to be secure, but father doesn't want to lose you."

"Well, for what it is worth, I would prefer not to be married to Ptoleus."

"What is wrong with Ptoleus," laughed Hercules.

"Everything, well, nothing, I mean…I am sure that he has his qualities, but when I look at him I see nothing. Nor do I miss him now that he is gone. He was, well, boring. And if truth be told he is not attractive to my tastes at all."

"You are young," Hercules assured her. "Give love time."

"Then you think that I should be wed to him too!"

"No," he finally laughed. "I actually would much prefer it if you did not wed Ptoleus. You are right; he is boring and bland on the eyes. He lives in Egypt though, so you could make all the sand castles you wanted."

"Oh stop," Leassandra giggled. "Would you do me a favor though? If father asks you your opinion, since you are the eldest, would you tell him it is a bad match?"

"You can count on me," he said as he rose. He placed a quick kiss to her forehead then stepped away. "Go back to singing. I'm going to go finish my studies for the day."

He made his way to the grand halls then, and as he did he heard Leassandra begin singing again. He laughed to himself for a moment then wandered further down the hall. As he did, he heard footfalls behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Arast, who conveniently was chasing a large red rooster down the hallway. Hercules rolled his eyes inwardly but knelt just in time to catch the animal. He held it then and waited for Arast to approach. When the boy reached him he handed him the bird and smiled.

"What are you doing," he asked, still laughing.

"Hunting," Arast told him quickly.

"And this chicken is to be your prize? No, no, princes do not hunt roosters Arast, not when they live in Greece. Besides, what were you going to hunt him with? I do not see a bow nearby, or even a dagger."

"You promised to take me with you yesterday," complained the eight-year-old. Defiantly he pouted, and Hercules could see where perhaps Cassander wondered about the child's right to rule. For so old he often acted so very young. "Father taught you to hunt, but not me. It is not at all fair."

"Alright," Hercules said finally. "Go get your bow and I will take you hunting with me right now."

Hercules had no reason to repeat himself. Arast dropped the rooster, forgetting all about it, and ran down the hall to retrieve his bow. As Hercules stood he saw Leassandra leaning against a pillar, clearly watching him. She smiled and tipped her head, proud of him it seemed, and then walked away. Sighing, and forgetting how hungry he was, he set off to take Arast hunting.

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A/N: First chapter up! Let me know what you think. Opinions are always important to me.


	3. Lesson Two

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 2 of 12, "Lesson Two"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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It was midday when Hercules was able to return to the palace. Arast followed him, grinning from ear to ear, carrying a dead hare by its ears. Hercules didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd shot the hare. Arast's arrow hadn't even managed to sail through the air, mainly because Hercules had caught it before Arast could see, and his own arrow struck the hare. He was happy, and to Hercules that was all that mattered. As they turned down the hall both spotted Cassander, accompanied by Syrikriah, and slowed for a moment. Arast then took off, happy as could be, letting the hare flop alongside of him. Cassander wrapped his arms around his son and lifted him into the air, steadying him on his hip. He then looked at the hare, taking it from Arast, and laughed.

"We shall take it to the cook immediately," Cassander told the boy as he set him back down on the floor. Arast, delighted, wrapped his arms around his mother. Cassander then held the hare out to Arast. "Come, lunch is being served. Beforehand you and I shall take it immediately to the cook so that we can have it tonight."

"Are you hungry," he then asked Hercules, who only nodded. He was actually starving. It seemed as if he had been working for weeks and to no avail. Cassander merely smirked, which was not a good sign at all. "Perfect, let us go then."

"Syrikriah," Hercules greeted, bowing his head slightly to the queen. She seemed not to notice him and averted her eyes before stepping past him. As soon as her back was to him she rolled her eyes. He then turned on his heels and followed, not too closely, and instead of keeping his eyes before him he glanced at the murals that were painted upon the walls. They were all rather remarkable, but none had caught his eye quite like others he'd seen in the palace. Those were locked away now, locked far away in a room that few even knew about.

"Sit down," Cassander said as Hercules entered the room. Hercules sat next to Leassandra, as he always did, but Cassander shook his head as he sat in his own chair. "You will sit across from me. My queen, please move for a moment."

"Why..."

"Don't question me," Cassander interrupted before Hercules could protest. The young man stood and walked to Syrikriah's chair. She glared at him for a moment, as she had since he turned eleven, and then moved. Hercules sat down, as ordered, and watched as water was brought to the table. Watered wine was brought next, but none was placed before him.

"You will not move," Cassander said as he rose. "Do not move, drink, eat, or even turn your head. Do you understand? You are stone, frozen in time. Arast, bring that hare."

Arast jumped up, happy enough, and followed Cassander into the other room where the cooks hid. Hercules knew this merely by hearing them. He, as told, did not move. Again he felt as if this was going to be a trying lesson, and already he had a feeling he was not going to eat. Sure enough more food was brought out and none was placed before him. When Cassander returned he sat across from Hercules as if nothing was wrong. He then began to eat roasted chicken, and to make matter worse he made sure to stare at Hercules the entire time. After a moment Arast began to eat, and then Syrikriah. Leassandra was the only one that remained still, glancing back and forth from Hercules to her father.

"Eat," Cassander told her.

"But, father," she began.

"He is learning something," Cassander told her. He then nodded and she picked up a piece of chicken. Hercules still did not move, merely watched what was going on before him, and waited.

"Can I learn something too," Arast asked, setting his water down.

"Not today," his father answered, laughing slightly. "Today you will eat, and when you are as old as Hercules I will teach you what he is learning now. I swear it."

"Let the boy eat," Syrikriah said softly. Hercules glanced at her, not truly moving anything but his eyes to do so. Her long black hair was lose today, falling in ringlets down to her lower back, and her emerald eyes appeared darker than ever. Something about her eyes made him feel sad though, perhaps as if he were staring into her soul, and in her soul no hope was left.

"No."

"He has not eaten all day."

"He will eat later," Cassander told her, irritation beginning to rise in his voice. Leassandra picked up her water, nervous of an impending fight, and Hercules heard her swallow most of the contents of the cup. Syrikriah then made a small noise of disgust, a _tssk, _and it was then that Cassander slammed his own cup down.

"He is my son," he spat, "and I will do with him whatever I see fit. It is time you remember where your place in this house is."

"Do you think that I forget," she asked, pain in her voice. "Am I not your queen, the mother of your legitimate children?"

"Out," he cursed. Syrikriah squirmed when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her from her chair. "I said get out! How dare you curse my son before me?"

Hercules watched as Cassander and Syrikriah left the room. Next Leassandra picked up her watered wine and drank it all down. She too then stood and took Arast's hand. Without explanation she led Arast out of the room, making sure to go through the kitchen instead of the main hall. Hercules on the other hand remained, and waited. For a good two hours he waited, unmoving, all the while listening to the servants as they took away the uneaten food and cleared the table. After two hours passed he heard footfalls in the hallway, and then Cassander entered the room.

"Lesson two," he announced. "Temptation can never avert you from your goals. Now you can eat."

Cassander said nothing more, merely left the room again. Hercules sat for a moment and then rose. He had lost his appetite after all. Pushing away from the table he entered the hallway and decided that he would go to that secret room, the one that so few knew about. Without being stopped he entered Cassander's private halls and continued, but not before he saw something further down the hall. He was not sure what it was, but quickened his pace. As he turned quickly around the corner he saw the door to the room closing, which was odd indeed, for only he and Cassander possessed a key to the room. Quickening his pace once more he raced to the door, feeling as if he should protect the treasures that were hidden within. When he reached the door he found it locked. Taking the key that hung around his neck and shoved it into the door then pushed it open. Silently he made his way down the small corridor that led into the entirety of the room, and even though there was no light he made no noise. He'd taken this venture a thousand times, at least.

"Who's there," he heard a voice whisper, but the heavy breathing protected the owner. Hercules continued into the room, making not the slightest hint of noise. Someone exhaled, and then he heard a bust being knocked from its position. He bit his lower lip, but was glad when it did not collide with the ground. It had been saved. Next candles were lit, and slowly Hercules found a place to hide amongst the remaining shadows. It was as he hid behind a pillar, in between a large chest that held letters, that he managed to see Leassandra. He wondered what she was doing in here, in his hidden treasure room. Slowly he rose and came around the pillar. He leaned against it and stared at Leassandra's back. She was still young, but already she was only a few inches shorter than him. More and more she was looking older as well.

"Hercules," she gasped as she turned. Her hand flew to her heart and she almost cried out. With his arms still crossed over his chest he stared at her, wondering still what she was doing. "You gave me a fright."

"What are you doing," he asked.

"The same thing you are," she replied. She then removed her hand from an ivory colored bust of Alexander. Once more she looked at it, and then turned her eyes back to him. "You look like him you know, your father."

"That is Alexander," Hercules covered, but she only laughed.

"Hercules, I already know. I have known since I was six. You are his son," she whispered. Next she let her eyes wander to the mural beside the bust, the best likeness of Alexander and Hephaestion that remained. It had been painted in Persia and had traveled all of the way to Athens, where it now was hidden in this room. "You truly have Hephaestion's eyes though, cerulean like no other. Tell me, do you believe that both are your father like I've heard father tell you?"

"Leassandra…"

"I know, it is a secret. That is why I have said nothing for all these years, and still would not, but I've been caught. Mother once told me that father was wrong about you, that you looked nothing like him and his Persian whore had lied to him. I knew it was true, but why have you never been forthright with me?"

"It was not something that was to be told," he answered. "Believe me, I would have said something if I thought, if I knew that you…"

"Father is training you to be his heir, isn't he?"

"Yes," he whispered, suddenly ashamed for it. Leassandra nodded, perhaps a bit hurt that her own brother was not heir, but then smiled. He knew that it was a half-smile, concealing the rest of her pain.

"Well, I could not be happier," she quietly told him. "You are a wonderful man Hercules Alexandros, son of Alexander the Great. Father is right, you deserve it. After all, it should all be yours, should it not?"

"Leassandra, I did not ask for it. I did not ask for any of it. I do not mean to take Arast's birthright from him. If I could I would be the bastard child that Syrikriah wishes for me to be, but I am not, and Cassander has taken it upon himself to care for me. Please, do not hate me for it. I did not choose my parents, or this situation."

"I could never hate you," Leassandra assured him. She then shrugged lightly. "Arast has plenty of time. Besides, it is your empire above ours, all of it. How could I be angry? Perhaps someday, when you unite the four lands again, you will make Arast something grand, whatever you see fit."

"My name could have me killed," he quietly told her.

"Nothing will pass my lips. You are kind Hercules," she told him, stepping forward and placing a hand upon his cheek. She then stared into the depths of his eyes as she went on. "I see how you treat us, this family that is not yours. You love my father, and he loves you more than he does any of us. And Arast, you are his brother through and through. I heard about your hare chase today, and it made his so happy, and for once he thinks that he does not need father to teach him everything –and is not saddened when he does not. Hercules, you may not be my brother by blood, but in every other way you are."

Hercules could say nothing more. He swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat and then nodded. Silently Leassandra stepped away and left him to his thoughts. As he always did he sat down in the only chair in the room and stared at the busts of Alexander and Hephaestion, which were placed side by side. For some time he was alone, but soon Cassander entered and took a seat on the floor beside him.

"It is the only place that brings me comfort," Cassander told him, something that he had heard many times before. Hercules nodded, for he too understood the solace that could be found here. It was a shrine to two gods, two lovers, two men, two friends, …and two fathers he had never known.

"Why Athens," Hercules asked quietly. "You always spoke of Macedon and how you would change things there. It is yours now, but you make your home in Athens. Why?"

"Is it not obvious," Cassander laughed, but the laugh was soft and filled with pain. It was then that Hercules realized Cassander was crying, something he had never seen him do before. Cassander reached up and wiped the tears away with a hand, erasing them as if they had never happened, and then let out a short breath.

"When I was young my father took me to King Philip's court. On the way he told me that I must befriend Alexander, for if I ever wanted to be a man of any station I must have the trust of my prince, my king. He introduced us when I arrived, then left us to play, and we did. He was a great friend, always wanting to be a hero though. Then one day Amyntor brought his son, Hephaestion, to be raised alongside us. Hephaestion rivaled me in every way. Soon he was Alexander's confidant, he closest friend, and they never parted. My father said I had let him down, and I believed him. Yet Amyntor left for Greece, Athens, under Philip's orders and took his son with him. I was relieved," again he laughed with tears. "I was so damned relieved because I thought that once again I could be Alexander's favorite. But no, he only missed Hephaestion for the first months, and still I felt as if I had failed my father.

"After he had grieved Alexander became my friend once more, but you know what wise women say. What one turns free comes back if they love it enough, and so one day Hephaestion came back. Again he rivaled me in every way. He had grown stronger, wiser, and by Aphrodite…he was lovely for a man. Truly she kissed him in Athens I believed. Alexander was lost to me again, and I grew so bitter. Then there was the mess at Mieza, followed by a long war, and now here I am. I am forty almost, and everything that I have I have gained through Alexander and Hephaestion.

"I hated Hephaestion for so long that I learned to hate the world. By the time I realized that I was wrong, it was too late. Yes, I could fix things in Macedon, and it is my home…but do you know what I remember about those horrid years in Persia and India? I remember," again he laughed, "how Hephaestion made Athens appear in my mind. He made it sound so beautiful, perfect really, and when we were dividing land I naturally wanted beauty and home. So I wanted Macedon and Greece. Yes, I thought I would live in Pella, but I reached it, and I wanted something more. I wanted that beautiful place where Hephaestion learned to love, and so here we are, in Athens."

"You loved him," Hercules stated quietly.

"It was a tragedy in the making," Cassander admitted. "He loved another, and I never knew what to do with my love."

"Would you have come between them, if the occasion arose?"

"Never. Love is hard to understand, but I loved him so much that I never would have taken him. Hephaestion loved your father, more than anything. They belonged together, were made for each other, and I was made for this life I suppose."

"Is that why you took me, because I have his eyes?"

"You have no idea how hard it is to look at you sometimes," Cassander admitted, tears still burning his eyes. Again he smirked. "In the end I believe I did what my father wanted. I returned home a leader, married, and became almost as unhappy as he was."

"For a man that hates his Fate, your Fate truly admires you."

"No, I do not hate what has become of me. Nor can I say that I am not proud of my achievements. I just expected things to be different I suppose."

"Leassandra and Arast should make you proud," Hercules offered. "Leassandra is beautiful, and Arast will become what you want him to be. He has you in him, it is just hidden for the moment."

"Well, as long as you outlive me all will be well. I will have made amends for every last of my wrongs." He nodded, then lifted himself from the floor. "Come, there is one more thing that I can teach you tonight."

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A/N: Again, thank you to all of my reviewers and readers. It is great hearing from all of you, The next chapter will again be up soon.


	4. Lesson Three

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 3 of 12, "Lesson Three"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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Hercules watched as Cassander left the room. He then turned his attention back to the busts of Alexander and Hephaestion before him. For too long he'd chased the past, one which he knew nothing of, living day to day but staring behind him. No, he decided that there would be no more past for him. He would be Hercules Alexandros, starting now, and would determine his own fate based on his own life. Day to day would become his day to day, not theirs. They were his blood, his heritage, but could not control his Fate now. Rising, Hercules followed Cassander out of the room.

As soon as he entered the hallway he was forced to again realize how late at night it was. Despite a lack of light he managed to keep up with Cassander, staying only a few paces behind him. Never once did Cassander slow though. He merely continued, passing through unmarked corridors when needed. When they reached an old training room, which Hercules noted that he had never used in his studies of war, he was not surprised. Instead he placed his palms at his sides and waited, glancing around the dimly lit room. Meanwhile Cassander pulled a dull wooden sword from the wall and tossed it to the ground, not far from Hercules' feet. He then came forth with a blindfold and tied it, without explanation, around Hercules' eyes. Hercules remained silent and still.

"All of your life you have been living with a gift," Cassander finally said. He then pulled his own wooden sword from the wall and held it firmly in a hand. "You have all five of your senses, each one almost perfect. From infancy you were trained to use them, but never to hone each one and forsake the rest. This is what you are going to do now."

"By fighting without my sight," Hercules asked, "what am I gaining? No other warrior would fight by night."

"No, but killers would. Now, we will be simple. Just defend yourself as I attack."

"Are you going to hand me the sword?"

"Get it yourself."

"I will," he replied cockily. "When I do, you can apologize for doubting me."

Hercules knew one thing well enough, and it was how to sneak around in the night. He listened, and surely enough he heard Cassander take a stride forward. As soon as he heard this step Hercules leapt to the ground, grabbed the wooden sword, and pushed himself up from the sand. Slowly he circled, listening quietly. For minutes this continued, and Cassander did not attack in the slightest. Finally Hercules stopped, and then pulled his blindfold away. As he did he noticed that Cassander was silently sitting on a chair, watching him as if nothing had gone wrong.

"What are you doing," he asked, throwing the blindfold down.

"One sense can outweigh the other," Cassander stated, standing and setting his sword down on the chair. "However, pride can be immeasurable at times. Never enter a battle thinking that you are going to win, or that you are going to lose. When you enter any fight you enter it knowing one thing, that you must understand your own senses before you can do anything else. Your fault was that you said you were going to win, so it was easy to trick you."

"You should just write these down," Hercules complained. "I am tired, hungry, and tired once more."

"Then go to bed," Cassander said. "Tomorrow is going to be the hardest day you've ever lived."

Hercules said goodnight then and rubbed his eyes as he continued down the hall back to his room. Entering his room he noticed that the door was slightly ajar, but already he could sense who was in his room. After shutting the door he walked to his bed and fell back against it, next to Arast. Arast had often come to his room, afraid of the dark most of the time, and the noises that came from within his room. Hercules did not mind, found it rather endearing actually, and had never told him he was unwelcome in his room. After a moment of lying silently next to Arast he rolled off of the bed and went to the sofa in the sitting room. Of all of Cassander's children he had the best room, which was fully furnished and included a separate sitting room, closet, and bathing room. The sofa was comfortable as well, and he sprawled out upon it, and once again stared up at the ceiling.

He thought of Leassandra as he lay there, which disturbed him. All along he'd known that she was not his sister, but still, there was barely a difference. The thoughts that he had of her now were inappropriate, and he knew this, but still he could not stop them from entering his dreams. When sleep would not come he opened his eyes and lifted slightly off of the sofa. Arast was still asleep in the other room, and Hercules swallowed as he lay back down. Quietly he let his hand slide down to his thigh, and rested it there for a moment. Again, in his mind, he told himself he was wrong for thinking of such. He was even worse to act upon it. Swallowing once more he calmly wrapped his hand around his already erect manhood, and then tilted his head back. As he touched himself he thought of the one young woman he should not have thought of. His breath caught before his peak, and he stifled a moan, weary of waking Arast. He did not sleep well for the rest of the night.

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"Not awake yet," a voice asked, causing Hercules to almost leap off of the sofa. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, and Leassandra was already pulling the curtains of his room open. She turned, looking a bit older today, smiling all the while. She then sat down beside him and continued to stare at him, expecting something of him. Hercules finally shrugged and went to the closet, where he shut the door, so that he could change.

"Hercules," she complained, "do not be such a fool. I know that you know perfectly well what today is."

"Uhm," he fakes from the closet. He then opened the door and stepped out, wearing a black chiton, and shrugged again. For a dramatic effect he put a hand to his chin and acted like he was still thinking. "I know that it had something to do with you…are you getting betrothed?"

"Hercules Amyntor Alexandros, son of Cassander Antipitros," she warned, "I swear that if you forgot I shall never speak with you again."

"Then I forgot," he teased, laughing as she swung a hand at him. "Alright, alright, I remember now. Today you are twelve."

"Yes," she giggled. "You should be very happy as well."

"And why would I be happy?"

"Because, now that I am a young woman," she began, but stopped. Hercules waited for her to say more, but she did not. "Well, never mind. It will be brought up later, I am sure. But what did you get me?"

"Something that is hidden."

Immediately Leassandra was up, walking around the room in search of her gift. Hercules sat down on the sofa, for the first time glancing around to make sure there was not a mess from last night, and waited. She was not going to find it in the room, but knew that if she entered the bathing room all would be discovered. Leassandra paused before turning his bed over, which Arast had again left unmade. She then turned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Where is it," she asked.

"I don't think that I can tell you," he replied.

"Tell me," she pleaded.

"It is in the bathing room," Hercules told her. When she opened the door and the small black puppy wandered out into the room the look upon her face was priceless. He only wished he could live the rest of his life making her happy. However, it was morning, and he knew Cassander would be looking for him.

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A/N: Let me know what you think! Sorry for the delay!


	5. Lesson Four

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 4 of 12, "Lesson Four"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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"He is mine to do with as I wished," Cassander insisted as he pulled his robe over his bare chest. The sun had just begun to filter into the room, but already the fighting had begun. Syrikriah continued to sit upon the bed, bare breast exposed with black ringlets covering some of her softest flesh, legs crossed. Slowly she shook her head before lifting a delicate hand to her forehead. She then laughed slightly as she rose from the bed and picked up her fallen garments. He took little notice of this and continued to wash his face. She was merely a woman, nothing more. She did not know his plans, nor did she need to.

"He is not mine," she argued fiercely as she too dressed, this time knowing she would never lay with this man again. She was a fool to have done it this time. As she slid the elegant dress over her shoulders she prayed to the goddess of children that she would not conceive, not this time.

"You're damn right he is not yours," Cassander cursed. "Hercules is my son, mine! As my eldest son he deserves the right to inherit the throne. There is nothing wrong with Arast, other than the fact that my kingdom will remain for a few sympathy years, but will eventually become pebbles underneath Ptolemy's sandal. No, Arast is not ready. He may very well never be ready, and you'll have to face that with him. Hercules is my heir. Do not try to persuade me otherwise."

Again Syrikriah shook her head, as if puzzled by this. Once again she could not understand her husband's reasoning skills. Hercules, in her eyes, was nothing more than a charity case. He was not her son. He was not rightfully, in such a case, heir to the throne. However, for some reason unbeknownst to her, Macedonia believed that Cassander was some sort of a figure head. It was Alexander that had made Macedonia rich. Cassander just took it over for him in death, and not precisely by choice. Greece, their current home, was very much the same. Alexander's great name surpassed him, and just because Cassander had been there he too had become Alexander. Shaking her head she pondered it. What fools these citizens were to think that Cassander would rule the same. No, he was not the same. He did not want to unite anything. He just wanted to sulk because he did not have it all. It was her son that should rule, not Hercules. Arast was her blood, the queen's blood, and Hercules was born of the blood of a harem.

Cassander did not wish to argue with her further. Instead he finished washing his face and then stepped out of the room, unabashedly slamming the door shut as he did so. Once he entered the hallway he quickened his pace until he was pushing the door to Hercules' room open. Hercules was not in bed, a favoring sign, but was also nowhere to be found. Cassander paused and glanced around the room, for the first time wondering if he had been the father he should have been. Slowly he proceeded onto the balcony. Placing both hands on the railing he stared out, the warming sun staring down at him, and glanced up at the sky. A small red hawk circled high above, causing Cassander to sigh. He wrung his hands together for a moment, before hearing the footfalls behind him, and then ran a hand through his hair.

"Pretend that I'm not here," the other said as he stood next to Cassander. Cassander glanced over at him for a moment before he placed his hands against his forehead and leaned forward. For years they had played this game, a game of confidence that was a great respect. One would be invisible, and the other would begin to speak, clearing their mind to nothingness. Only at the end would advice be given, if of course it was called for.

"For years we were together," Cassander said quietly. Every few seconds he would shift somehow, constant movement showing his lack of sureness. "I wonder what it was for sometimes. We traveled the world hoping to unite it, but in the end it fell apart despite our grandest efforts, which compared to Alexander's were nothing but mere scraps given to starving dogs. We live in the myth that he created, that we all created, but it no longer is plausible to live it. Nothing shall ever be as it was. India soon will gain back her strength, and slowly we lose ours. It is only the way of things that someday it will all be lost again, all but Greece, Macedonia, and Egypt I fear. I am standing on land that is worth more than the lives of 10,000 soldiers, but I feel nothingness. I succeeded in battle, succeeded in the war for this land, but I never succeeded in my own life. None of this belongs to me; it is all his. Everything is his, and always shall be."

"But what troubles you about this," Hercules then asked. "Alexander was your friend, and even as you speak these words I know that you do not care if this land has Alexander's imprint on it. Tell me, what is it that you wanted?"

"I wanted you," Cassander whispered, lightly placing a hand against Hercules' cheek before turning away once more. "I wanted to create something lasting, something that I would be proud of no matter what."

"You have Leassandra, and Arast. They are your legacy Cassander, and I am merely standing beside you as the world around us changes. You have me as a son Cassander, and always shall."

"She does not understand your importance."

"Syrikriah?"

"Yes," he answered. "She does not understand what you are to me, to everyone. You are all that remains of the myth, the only thing good that can continue and go on. Perhaps I take advantage of you, as my father would have taken advantage of me, but I never meant to Hercules. I never meant to harm you, and I never intentionally shall. But I cannot tell Syrikriah of your blood, not now at least. Should I, I would lose her forever, and somehow she would find a way to let the world know too soon. Either she, or Ptolemy, would have you killed. Ptolemy loved Alexander, but he loves living in the myth without him as much as the rest of them do. They do not need you to ruin it for them. They call me a monster, ha, they are the monsters."

"You have never let me down," Hercules assured him. "Give your kingdom to whomever you wish Cassander, for it is yours."

"Tell me that you want it."

"Do I want it," Hercules asked. "Perhaps I am too much like Hephaestion, or even you. I could live my life as a scholar and be perfectly content, wanting only a family to succeed me. To put your faith in me would not be wrong though," he assured Cassander. "Your kingdom will never fall whilst in my control, I swear it to you. You have given me so much, and I will make sure to repay you. Tell me what to do with it, and I shall do it."

"I will not have to tell you someday," Cassander replied before left. Hercules watched him go, silently wondering what had come over Cassander in these last few days. He enjoyed the lessons he supposed, but the rush was interesting. After a moment he took in a breath and then glanced out into the courtyard. Standing in the courtyard was Leassandra, her new puppy hopping around by her ankles. She laughed and then swooped down to lift the puppy in her arms. She kissed the puppy gently on the head and then started into the hallways. Hercules leaned against the ledge for a moment, then turned on his heels and rushed out of his room, hoping to bump into her in the hallway. When he entered the hall he turned quickly down a smaller hall and just as expected heard Leassandra and the puppy.

"Don't scare me like that," Leassandra pleaded when she glanced up, her eyes descending upon Hercules for the first time. He smirked, and then reached for the puppy. He took the small thing from her arms and patted its head for a moment before giving it back. Leassandra kept her eyes upon him all the while. "What are you doing up so early? Has my father already taken you out this morning for another lesson?"

"Surprisingly no," he answered. "I woke up by myself earlier and couldn't go back to sleep. Perhaps you and I could go for a walk."

"Alright, but only for a little while. Mother has plans for me today and you know how she gets. If I'm but a moment late I might as well kiss the puppy goodbye. She said that the gift was improper. Do you know why she would say such a thing?"

"I am not her son," he answered solemnly. "Sometimes I fear that everything I do is incorrect. If I speak she hates my words, however, if I say nothing at all she believes that I am rude. No matter what, I am wrong. Giving you a puppy was perhaps foolish of me. However, it pleases you, and that was the intent of such a gift. Nothing more, nothing less."

The gardens were a sight in the morning, dew dripping from young buds and small sparrows nesting in the grander trees nearby, their chirps making a harmonious chorus. The two did not need to speak while walking side by side, for nature was their Muse at the moment. Up ahead, before a bend in the gravel walkway, a thin green lizard sat, flicking its tongue out at passing gnats that only trained eyes could see. Hercules watched the small creature as it lifted his head, hearing their footfalls echoing before him. Slowly the lizard lifted a leg and then scurried away, its tail held high all the while. After a moment Hercules slowed in pace and glanced at the youth to his right. She belonged here, he realized, like any nymph belonged in the woods or sea. It was her world that he was passing through, and that was the end of it. He was in her world, where he did not yet belong. When he stopped she turned to face him, her eyes sparkling like the sunlight that hit falling dew, and when he looked upon her his heart shattered as the drops of dew as they hit the ground.

"I must go," he whispered, and then left her standing in silence. When she could no longer see him he broke into a run, and he ran, and continued to run until he stoop outside of the city on the cliffs overlooking the sea. He drew in a breath, smelling the salty ocean cresting against the jagged rocks, and then screamed as loud as he could. No one would hear, this was clear enough, but he did not want any other man to hear. He just wanted to scream, and when he lungs gave out, he was left heaving on his knees. It was then that a gust of wind picked up, pelting his back with small pebbles and sand bits, and it seemed then that the winds spoke. Hercules lifted his head and slowly glanced over his shoulder, and he then rose, a look of shock etched upon his face. Standing almost before him, as clear as he had seen anything before, was the Great king.

"He reminds me of you," the wind whispered, and Hercules stepped closer to Alexander. It could not be, but on his life it was real. Slowly his hand rose, as if he planned to reach out and touch him, yet another voice startled him.

"He has your spirit," the other said from behind him. Hercules turned, and again he had to stifle a gasp as Hephaestion shook his head. He then seemed to disappear, reappearing beside Alexander, one hand gently placed on the king's shoulder. _No_, Hercules reminded himself, _his lover. They are lovers, not nobility._ "He has only my eyes, and perhaps my sense of reason for he knows this cannot be happening."

"But it is," Alexander said as he took a step closer. "Hercules….."

He was going to say something, though Hercules did not know what. Just as he was about to speak the wind was gone, and with it the images he had just seen. Drawing in a deep breath he turned, and it was then that he saw the body floating in the sea.

The woman was pulled from the sea by Hercules and immediately was cared for in the palace. Cassander either did not mind or had no idea what the physician was running around about. He did not care either, for Hercules had another lesson to learn. Before the turn to the hallways which would lead him to Hercules' room he paused, leaning against the wall as he did so, and coughed. When he withdrew his fingers there was a thin film of blood, just as there had been for days. Cassander wiped his fingers on the bottom of his chiton and then turned into the hallway. As he walked he coughed once more and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Entering Hercules' room he paused, but remained firm.

"You have another lesson," he told him.

"I know," Hercules replied. "What now?"

Cassander glanced over his shoulder. Upon doing this Syrikriah entered the room, her eyes as hard as ever, judging Hercules on his every movement. She made herself comfortable in a chair, and Cassander continued forward.

"Explain to her," he instructed, "why you want to be king."

"I…."

"Do not falter. Tell her what you want immediately. There is not time to delay as a king. Words must be spoken as you think of them, and their consequences. Tell her, why do you wish to be king above Arast."

"The kingdom will never fall whilst while I am in control of it. For the life that I was born into, and for what I have been given, I shall repay in protection of this kingdom and everything that it held dear inside its walls. I am no better than Arast, and he is your son Syrikriah, but he is barely eight years old and a long while away from ruling. Should something happen to Cassander his heir must rule, but his heir must be able to rule by himself. Arast could rule, with others speaking in his ears, and the kingdom would fall under malice or attack. I am the only one that is able to rule now, and one day Arast will have what he is due as your legitimate son, but not now. Let Cassander name me as his heir Syrikriah, and be settled upon such knowledge, for I would keep you alive whereas others would not be so kind upon you if Arast were to rule. The last thing any man wants is a mother ruling through her son."

With tears in her eyes Syrikriah stood, and said something in a language Hercules had never heard before. Without waiting to be excused she then left the room, leaving only two men behind. Cassander raised an eyebrow then nodded.

"What was the lesson," Hercules asked as he stepped over the threshold.

"When truth is impossible, be able to go around the truth."

"And if that was the truth?"

"Then here was nothing to go around, and finally you see the destiny that has been planned for you since you were conceived."

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A/N: Sorry for posts being short and for them taking forever to be put up. I'm neglecting every reader, I know. Forgive me!


	6. Lesson Five

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 5 of 12, "Lesson Five"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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_A deep orange-red had been cast over the freshly trodden ground. The sounds of working men and animals could be heard; a horse's nostrils flared as it was hitched to a cart, and the sound of a woman pulling water from a well could be heard echoing through the camp. After a moment there was a soft utterance, something that he could not make out perfectly, and it caused him to turn. Leaning over the bed Alexander brushed a lock of Hephaestion's hair away from his damp cheek, for the day was already warm even though the sun was just rising. As Hephaestion stirred slightly under Alexander's touch the other stepped forward, blinking a few times as he did so. Alexander leaned closer, pressing his lips against Hephaestion's forehead, and again whispered the words he had come to wake him with. _

_"Our son is here," Alexander whispered softly against Hephaestion's seemingly cool skin. With these words Hephaestion's eyes opened and he glanced uneasily at Alexander. After accepting a soft kiss from the lips of his king, his lover, he sat up and took the robe that Alexander held out to him. After sliding it over his sinewy muscles he stood and followed Alexander out of the tent. The other had no other choice, he followed as well. Alexander and Hephaestion strode forward, walking faster than perhaps they should have if they were to contain their excitement, and the king quickly embraced a woman holding an infant in her arms. Upon greeting her the king ushered Barsine into another tent, prepared especially for her, and let her sit down and make herself comfortable. He immediately took the infant from her and held it gently against his chest. As he turned it was clear that his eyes were cerulean, like Hephaestion's who stood in the corner of the room, holding back a smile. _

_The other blinked, trying to clear the image, but it only caused his head to ache. He reached up for his head and when he opened his eyes he watched as a young boy was brought into an ornate room. Alexander glanced over his shoulder and reached out for the child's hand. The boy took his hand and let Alexander pull him close in a tight embrace. Tears burned the king's eyes, but for the sake of the child he tried to remain calm. Slowly the boy turned his head and reached out with a hand. Lightly a tiny hand touched the pale hand upon the bed and pressed gently. Hephaestion slowly opened his eyes, which were now reddened, and forced a smile through his pain. _

_"Hercules," he whispered softly. "Let me have a moment with him Alexander…please." _

_Hercules found the courage to step forward. He reached out for Hephaestion's hand once more, and this time Hephaestion wrapped his fingers with the boy's. Alexander left the room, even though he clearly did not wish to. Hephaestion smiled once more as with his free hand he touched the child's cheek. _

_"Always be strong," Hephaestion then told him. "Stand for what you believe in, remember what you believe in, and let no one convince you of anything that you can't live with. Life is simple- live, love, and never look back and worry about things you cannot change."_

_"Will you be better soon," Hercules asked, his lower lip slightly trembling. "We want you to be better soon Hephaestion, please."_

_"The gods call me to them. Protect him for me, Hercules, for no one else will." Hephaestion stared at him for a moment, as if trying to memorize his face, something that he had already done a thousand times. He then coughed faintly and pointed to the secret passageway that led out of his room. Often enough he and Hercules had used it to hide from Alexander, jumping out to surprise him when it was convenient. It had always been fun, but the passageway had become dark since Hephaestion had taken ill. "Leave through the passage, and do not let Alexander see you for awhile, until after I… never mind. I love you Hercules, now go, but remember what I said. And remember, Cassander is your only ally here, no other, not even your mother. He'll give it to you someday."_

_"What?"  
_

_"Just promise that you'll remember…"_

_"Always," the boy answered, and then he left Hephaestion's side. Slowly he let the door to the passage shut behind him and pretended to walk on. He did not though. Instead he remained and watched as Hephaestion sunk back on the pillows, once more coughing. When silence came Hercules peered through the small hole in the doorway, which he remembered Hephaestion etching with a dagger so that they could see Alexander as he searched for them in hiding. It was silent for some time, a long time, and then he heard footfalls once again. Alexander entered the room in a hurry, but then slowed as he looked upon Hephaestion. Hercules was not sure what he saw that would put such fear in his eyes, but it had to be something terrible. _

_"Just last night he was," Alexander said, his eyes meeting with the physician that must have entered just moments before. Hercules stood straighter, awaiting the reply. He did reply, saying the water that Hephaestion had mixed with his wine was the ailment._

_"But how can this be," Alexander asked. "Typhus of India?"_

_"I wouldn't tax yourself your majesty. A few good nights of rest should do it," the older man said as Alexander picked up a cup. He seemed to be studying it, and the boy could not presume to know why. "But no wine, or cold chicken…"_

_The king waved a hand and the physician was escorted out. Hercules reached for the door, ready to come out, but then stopped. Something in his heart held him where he was. Alexander went to Hephaestion, sitting beside him and placed a hand upon his forehead. He then smiled, the same way that Hephaestion had, a smile which was laced with the greatest agony and pain that any mortal man could ever feel. _

_"I feel better," Hephaestion quietly assured Alexander, trying to be strong even now. "Soon I'll be up."_

_"We leave for Arabia in the spring; I can't leave without you," was the king's reply. He continued to stare down at Hephaestion, and as he did so Hercules pushed himself up on the tips of his toes so that he could better see what was going on. Hephaestion looked a bit worse, and perhaps some time had passed. His eyes were watering, or he had been crying. Hercules had never before seen Hephaestion cry, never, so he decided it must be the first. It was the illness that was making him feel so low. Alexander saw his pain, and he too tried to be strong. He tried to pretend he did not know what was happening. _

_"Arabia. You used to dress me up like a sheik," Hephaestion remembered fondly. He smiled, and for the first time in some time it was a real smile. Alexander reached out for him again, his heart breaking all the while. Hephaestion then said something that Hercules could not hear, and he was sorry for it. _

_"You were the only one who'd never let me win, the only one whose ever been honest with me. You saved me from myself, please don't leave me Hephaestion." _

_"I remember a young man who wanted to be Achilles and outdid him," Hephaestion then said, meaning it with his heart and soul. Again Hercules wanted to take a step forward but could not force himself to do so. Something seemed to be holding him back, whether it be the gods or his own lack of courage. _Alexander_, he wanted to say, _he is dying! Call the physician back!

_"And then what happened? Ours was a myth only young men believe," Alexander said through the tears that were finally falling from his eyes. Hercules realized then that he had never seen Alexander cry either. In all of the times he had seen these two great men together they had always been proud, confident, smiling…but never sad, or as they were now. Why was Alexander not calling the physician? Couldn't he see? _

_"But how beautiful a myth it was." _

_"Oh Hephaestion…" _

_It was then that Hephaestion cried, "I worry for you without me." _

_"I am nothing without you," Alexander replied quickly, honestly. He then began to rise, releasing his firm grip upon Hephaestion. "Come, fight Hephaestion! We will die together."_

"_We'll have children with our wives and our sons will play together as we once did," Alexander went on, weaving a beautiful tale as he walked across the room and to the balcony. "A thousand ships will launch from here Hephaestion. We'll round Arabia and sail up the gulf to Egypt. From there we'll build a channel through the desert and out to the Middle Sea, and then we'll move on Carthage and that great island city Sicily, they'll pay large tribute. After that the Roman tribe, good fighters, we'll beat them and then explore the northern forests and at the perils of Heracles to the Western Ocean. And then one day the populations will mix and travel freely, Asia and Europe will come together and we'll grow old Hephaestion, looking out our balcony at this new world…Hephaestion," he then turned and looked back to the bed, and once more, his voice pleading, called out his name. "Hephaestion…" _

Hercules screamed and grabbed the hands at his shoulders, quickly shoving them away from him. Chest heaving he then stared at Leassandra, who stood staring back at him, her eyes large from confusion. _It was a dream_, he told himself. Yet he knew that it was not a dream, it couldn't be. He had been there, those many years ago. He had been there….

"It was just a nightmare," Leassandra finally spoke. "I heard you screaming as I was passing through the halls. That is why you should not sleep in the day," she warned.

"It was," he began, but then paused. "It wasn't a nightmare. It was…a memory."

"Well it must have been a terrible one to have you screaming so."

"No," he replied. "It was just a memory, something that I had forgotten a long time ago. Hephaestion, he…. Cassander was right…."

"Right about what?"

"The empire," Hercules said as he leapt off of his bed and immediately rushed out of his room. Leassandra followed, unsure of why Hercules was acting so odd. Perhaps he had bumped his head and that was why he'd been in his room sleeping. Or perhaps he was just deathly ill, and she should in that case call for her father, or a doctor. "The empire," he explained as he tore through the hallways, "was supposed to go to Hephaestion in the event of Alexander's death. Hephaestion died first though, and when Alexander died his men said that he had no heir, and that was when they divided it up. Cassander was right though, the empire was supposed to be given to him. All of it."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why couldn't it just have gone to you, even though you were seven."

"They would have killed me," Hercules said, "and would have succeeded if Cassander had not protected me. He was my only ally. He _is_ my only ally."

"Well," Cassander said as he stepped in front of the pair. Hercules stopped before bumping into him, and stared up at him for a moment. "It looks as if you have finally remembered something of your past. Leassandra…your mother is looking for you. Go now, Hercules has another lesson."

"Why didn't you fight for it," Hercules asked as he was escorted into a room. Cassander shut the door and then shook his head, saying nothing more. Instead he motioned for Hercules to sit, which he did, but while doing so he asked again. "If you knew that the empire was yours, why didn't you fight for it? I'm sure others knew about Alexander plans. Why didn't you fight for it?!?!"

"I would have lost you," was his short reply. "A few years before, perhaps I would have, and I would have felt nothing in losing you. Perhaps I even would have killed you with my own hand a few years before. But when the time came, and the fighting began, I realized that your life was worth more than an empire."

"But what if I cannot gain it back. What if my father's empire truly is dead, dead and in the hands of men that never even saw the visions he did. They still don't even care about uniting the people, they never will. What if it is gone!"

"Then it is gone," he answered. "Does it really matter, having the gold and land that should be yours? Or does it matter more that you have air in your lungs and blood in your veins?"

Hercules could not find an appropriate answer. Instead he glanced at the book that Cassander set down before him. It was a history of Persian military; how the Persians fought was something that his instructors had always told him he needed to know. This book was different though, it covered hundreds of years, and it had a thick layer of dust on the cover. No one read about fighting, they fought. It was more practical that way.

"Read it," Cassander told him. "You have two hours to finish. Make sure you're taking notes, in your head."

"What, are you going to quiz me on it or something?"

"We'll find out in two hours."

Cassander then left the room and Hercules stared at the book. After a deep sigh he opened the first page and began reading as quickly as he could, while still trying to remember important names and terms. It was ridiculous, for the most part. However, two hours passed faster than he would have thought. He had managed to finish the book when Cassander opened the door and re-entered the room. Cassander reached down, picked up the book, and then asked him a question that was almost impossible to answer.

"How many candles are in this room," Cassander asked, and before Hercules could peer around the room he placed his hand over his eyes. "Come on, how many candles are in the room?"

"That wasn't in the book!"

"A good observation, but are you telling me you cannot answer the question?"

"No," Hercules replied after a moment.

"Seventeen," Cassander said as he removed his hand and placed the book back on the shelf. "When you are a king you must pay attention to details that mean nothing. Even when you are just a man, it is wise."

"That is it? That is the lesson?"

"You failed," Cassander said with a smirk. "Do not think these lessons too foolish, because they are more important than any lesson that any other teacher could ever give you."

Hercules sat in silence as Cassander left the room.


	7. Lesson Six

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 6 of 12, "Lesson Six"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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She entered the room, forced to do so but one would have never known by her poise, and sat down gracefully on the chair that was provided for her. Despite the fact that she was a woman, and outnumbered by the guard, they still feared her. Perhaps it was the look that she cast upon them that caused them to swallow more than needed, her eyes like those of snakes, peering at them with a contempt sent from Hades himself. Her black dress clung to her supple breasts, which seemed unmarred by children suckling, even though her son was not constantly with a nursemaid, and the thin fabric clung to her thighs but left the rest of the side of her legs revealed. She was beautiful, her eyes still piercing, and her hair cascaded down her back in ringlet curls. Never before had Olympias looked so perfected, sculpted by the gods, and never before had one look given so many grown men such fear.

"Olympias," a man greeted as he entered the room. Even without seeing him she knew who he was, and heard another follow him in. Cassander stepped closer so that she could see him, a slight smile upon his face for an instant, as if he was pleased to see her. Yet it then faded and the hardened boy she once knew was not just a hardened man, no better than his father in her mind, and no better than any other man she'd ever known, given of course an exception to her son and his lover, Hephaestion, who were always cherished in her heart as something more than men. As he approached she placed one of her legs over the other and leaned forward, pressing an elbow on a knee, and she too smiled for a moment before glaring at him, scorned.

"Am I to become like the rest of them," she asked, no fear in her voice, but instead a commanding tone. Cassander knew whom she spoke of, it was no secret that he had killed Roxanne as well as had been involved with the death of Barsine. Alexander's other wives were quickly killed as well, and she knew well enough that there were no heirs left. She was the only remaining keystone in Alexander's bloodline, and she knew upon his death that she would be hunted like a lion hunts its prey, without mercy and until the lion has succeeded.

"You know me too well," the king answered as he pulled his own chair closer to her. He sat before her, staring at her for a moment in admiration, and then began to speak. "When men speak of women being Harpies, I fear that they think of you milady. It was apparent that someday you would present a problem, a resistance if you will, and you knew this. It is time that you go."

"Who is he," she asked, tipping her chin up at the figure that had begun to edge closer. She knew that it was a boy, sixteen she would guess, and from this had already gathered that it must be Cassander's bastard child. This was her presumption, but as the boy entered into the light and her line of vision she frowned. Ignoring Cassander entirely she stood and approached the boy, who took a step back, but then held his ground. Olympias then reached forward and placed a hand upon his cheek, and she knew then what her eyes had already confirmed.

"Hercules," he gave his name. As he uttered it her heart began to break, and a single tear rolled from her cheek and fell to the ground. Her eyes met with his, cerulean, and she looked at his golden hair, which was so close to Alexander's that it amazed her. The only difference in this child and the image of her son were a few strands of a deep brown in his hair, and of course the color of his eyes, which already she knew belonged to another. Some would have looked upon him and called him the child of Hephaestion. Others would have said that the child was Alexander's. Suddenly she knew that this child was not solely the child of either, but of both. Finally she smiled, and as she did so dropped to her knees before him.

"Hercules," she repeated, still staring at him as if Alexander himself had returned to her. She then glanced over her shoulder, venom in her eyes, and peered at Cassander. "You have kept him all this time, and have told no others! He is not your child Cassander, but the child of kings. How dare you defy Alexander and keep him like this!"

"Olympias," Cassander began, but before he could finish Hercules cut him off. He had heard her name mentioned a thousand times but never before had seen her. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at the woman that held both of his hands, on her knees before him.

"You are Olympias," he asked, and he too took to his knees. He wondered if secretly he had yearned for this moment, perhaps even in his dreams, and was glad that now she was here. He could see now what others spoke of, and wrote of, when they described her nature. Not only was she beautiful, but powerful, and this was what radiated from her eyes. Yes, the eyes of the mother of the greatest king to have ever ruled, his father. He could no longer contain his words, even though his throat seemed to close up slowly as he stared at her. "You must know then that I am…"

"I know well enough who you are," she said. Before she was allowed to go on Cassander grabbed her and pulled her back to the chair. He had not meant for them to catch up on family history. Olympias managed to slap him hard across the face before she was shoved back down against the chair. Cassander merely reached up and wiped the small stain of blood off of his lip. He cut her a look, telling her that she was not to speak again.

"Here," Cassander said as he handed Hercules a sword. "She is your grandmother. You can do the honors."

"What," Hercules asked, feeling the sudden weight of the sword in his hand. Once more he glanced at the woman that sat not far from him, and then to Cassander, who was completely serious about this. "For what? She has not done anything Cassander."

"Kings must be able to forgive, and able not to forgive. Finding the balance is the hardest thing that you perhaps will ever face," Cassander assured him. He then pulled Olympias' hair away from her neck, making a clean line for where a blade could easily be placed. "If it helps, I can try to lessen your burden. Olympias drove Alexander mad, didn't you, so that is a good enough explanation. Besides, she is ready to die. She's been ready for years now. If you make it quick she won't hold it against you."

"I protected my son," she spat. "Cassander, you know the truth."

"I can't," Hercules said again. "She has placed no such burden upon me Cassander."

"You would not put her where she belongs? You know well enough what she has done. She lives on Alexander's gifts, gold that he sent her, and all the while she begged and pleaded for more. When he would not bring her to Babylon she threw a fit and threatened that he would never succeed without his mother's approval. Tell me, tell me that she deserves to go on living, caring no longer about anything but herself."

"It is not my place," Hercules said, dropping the sword. "He would never forgive you," Hercules said as he walked out the door. He was not speaking of Hades or any other god. He meant that Alexander would never forgive Cassander for killing his mother. As the door shut Cassander smiled, and then picked up the sword.

"Take her back to her palace," Cassander instructed the guards. "She is to remain, as she has, under supervision. Olympias, you are lucky that he is so understanding, and so wise. If Hephaestion's blood did not course through his veins you might not be breathing right now."

"You say that I ruined Alexander," Olympias screamed as she was drug from the room. "You are ruining that child!"

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Time had passed since he'd been to the cliffs and only now did Hercules wonder what had happened to the woman they had pulled from the sea. Instantly he sat up in bed and made his way, once again, out of his room. It did not take long for him to reach the physician's quarters and when he entered he saw a few men that he barely knew, and one woman. She was lying on the bed farthest away from the door and the physician had prepared for her to be kept in privacy, setting up a veil over her bed. As he entered the room the physician stood and instantaneously Hercules raised a hand, and as he was trained to do the physician sat down silently. Hercules walked closer and stared down at the woman that lay beneath the veil, barely older than he was, wondering what her story was. How had she come to be washed up upon the cliffs?

"You're staring," a groggy voice whispered, causing Hercules to jump back. Slowly her eyes then opened and she glanced at the young prince, her eyes speaking as only a woman's could. "I remember you…you saved me from the rocks."

"Call me Hercules," he replied, looking over the small nicks on her face, the bruise on her jaw. It was not so bad, he decided, but she'd clearly suffered. Something about her caused him to look away, and a memory began tugging at him, but he could not figure out what it was. Again, the puzzle of his childhood plagued him.

"Carmalla," the young woman replied, her brown eyes meeting his. She tried to smile faintly, but instead her smile fell as the door behind them opened. Hercules already knew that it would be Arast, who had been looking for him for some time, desperate once again to go fishing –a past time that Cassander had long since given up. Hercules placed a hand out and Arast wrapped his smaller hand around him and smiled at the girl on the bed. He then tugged at Hercules, begging silently for them to be done with this.

"Step outside," Hercules instructed quietly. Arast nodded, still without speaking, and stepped out of the room. Hercules turned his attention back to the young woman then, who was watching the younger boy leave. Her eyes then drifted back to Hercules, who was almost her opposite. Where his hair was fair, hers was a darkened black, and where his eyes were blue, hers were a deep brown. He was younger than she was, but something about him seemed older, and she then slowly began to understand why she thought she'd seen him before. He was the spitting image of Alexander the Great, the late king.

"Thank you for your help," she said, ignoring her thoughts. Alexander had no heirs, he never had. Roxanne had already born their child, who along with his mother had been killed long ago. This youth simply could not be a son to Alexander, slayer of her father.

"You are in the best of care," Hercules told her as he stood to leave. "I will make sure to tell the physicians that you are awakening. If there is anything you need, do not be afraid to ask. They will bring you what you require."

Carmella said nothing more as she watched him turn away and leave. As he left, she pushed herself up on the pillows, and looked around the room. Where had she come to? Was this the cruel Fate she was to live for trying to take her own life? Sighing, she picked up a cup and drank, praying that she was not in the care of Alexander's only surviving son.

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A/N: Alright, so this is the first NEW chapter that has never been posted of this story. Let me know what you think!


	8. The Last Lesson

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 7 of 12, "The Last Lesson"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**IMPORTANT****: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read ****THE MISSING**** you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

**Dorganus**: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)

**Carmalla: **Car-maul-ah (you'll see, it's a secret)

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The crystalline lake was placid, the water slowly moving with the tide, small crests creating rippling patterns of azure blue contrasting clear-white. As the sun reflected down upon the lake it cast a bright luminescent glow, which even under the shade of the great trees was grand enough. As he sat, he watched the perplexed gray eyes across from him, the way the eight year old placed a hand on his line, slowly drawing it nearer to the banks. Smirking, Hercules then looked away, watching and waiting for his own fish to bite. Silence lingered between them, but he did not mind. Often enough Arast spoke, and to have him quiet was a subtle understanding between them. Somewhere in his soul Arast knew, like Leassandra, that he shared no blood with Hercules, that the bond they shared was one of false pretenses. Yet the youth kept it to himself, at least for now, but in the years to come Hercules knew that he would unravel the truth –and upon doing so his love for his father would wither, fraying like the ornate strings that had woven the blanket of lies that had blinded him for so long. Perhaps Syrikriah was right, that Cassander took too much from Arast in order to restore his conscious to himself, to finally release the memories of Alexander, but more importantly, of Hephaestion. Hercules wondered what would have become of him, had Cassander not protected him this long. He presumed that he would be dead, or perhaps in Ptolemy or Olympias' care –or the care of his poor mother –but in such it would be living death.

"I don't think we're going to catch anything," Arast finally moaned, dropping the stick the held his line. His father was right, he had no patience, expecting everything to be handed to him. But who could blame the child? He had been raised by Syrikriah, who knew long ago that her son would never be king, that Cassander would never devote himself to the boy like he did Hercules. Guilt washed through him for a moment, but he then reached out, drawing the stick up and edging closer to the boy. Arast let him, knowing well enough that it was Hercules who knew how to fish, though no one could really explain his gift.

"Here," Hercules said, holding the stick lightly in his hand. He watched the bobbing gourd as it was caught by a small current, drawing it closer to the mouth of a stream. Arast wrinkled his nose, but watched and waited while the expert amongst them explained. "Not everything comes quickly. Here, watch as the gourd comes to the mouth of the stream. Hold it back, here, yes, leave it there. Fish are like men, Arast. They have an entire lake, but still, they want to explore what is further down, what lies beyond their home. They swim down that stream, right there, and look for others of their kind, for better water, more food. Just wait, be patient. Don't pull the string, the worm will dangle enough with the current."

They waited, but it did not take long. The gourd suddenly dipped beneath the water and Arast yelped, grabbing the string and pulling it. Hercules waited for him to pull the line in, and when he did a large fish was produced. It was a sunset-fish, the color of the setting sun, its eyes as dark as the silhouettes of mountains in the distance, underbelly a light pink and yellow, while its back was a flaming red. Arast smiled, and once he'd pulled the fish onto the land looked over his prize. It was a good size, and surely Syrikriah would be proud of Arast's accomplishment, considering many times he would return with nothing but wounded pride.

"Did father teach you," Arast asked, beaming as he placed the fish into a small pail of water that he'd thought to bring along. The fish must have known its fate, for it sunk to the bottom, not fighting to get out. Hercules watched the fish for a moment and then shook his head. In truth, he could not remember who had taught him, where the skill had come from. Then, as a bubble from the bottom of the pail rose, popping when it hit the horizontal surface of the shallow water, the memory flooded his mind.

_"They are smaller than us, but that does not make them any less wise," the man said, gently wrapping the string back around his hand, lying on his belly. Hercules watched, content to do only that, as the small gourd began to bump up and down on the top of the water. It came closer, but it seemed like hours passed. Finally, the fish leapt from the surface, slamming down on the wet banks of the river. The fish was small, a disappointment considering the time that he had spent envisioning a giant fish, a fish that the Titans would have appreciated on their table. Frowning, Hercules stepped forward and pushed the fish with the toe of his fur boots. However, gentle hands reached down, scooping the fish up to safety. _

_"Look," the other said, holding the fish close to the ground, using Hercules' boot as a measurement, "at how small he is. Tell me, Hercules Alexandros, how big do you think that river is?"_

_"Large," the child replied, sitting down again on his log. He crossed his arms and watched as their prize was removed from the hook and then dropped into a pail. The master fisher then leaned back, bracing himself as he watched the changing speed of the river. It must have been raining higher up in the mountains, beyond where they could see. He then glanced back at the young prince and smiled, motioning with his chin to the river. _

_"A river like that has many fish, fish smaller than this one here, but others that are much larger. He is small, and once we take his insides and his scales, his head, he'll be almost nothing. I think it would be unfair to harm something so young, don't you?"_

_"Yes," Hercules smiled, picking up the pail and taking it to the edge of the river. He then dumped the fish back into the current and watched as with the twist of its tail it quickly disappeared. He then stepped back, knowing he could be swept away just as quickly. Beaming, he turned around and looked at his own personal philosopher, well, at least for the day. _

_"I think you made a wise decision."_

_"Someday," he replied, reclaiming his seat on the log, "I will catch a fish bigger than a boat."_

_"Then do so from land," the other laughed warm-heartedly, "or your fish will devour the entire boat."_

_"Do you believe me?"_

_"Of course," the other replied. He sat up and sat before the boy, staring up at him, reminding him very much of his father. "When I was your age, your father told me that he would conquer Persia, that we would cross the wide sea and fight our way to Babylon. You can do anything that you set your mind to, Hercules. Anything. You have the blood of kings, and gods, and a brilliant mind. But you're crafty as well, just like your father. The world will be your playground."_

_"Mother says it is dangerous to be king."_

_"It is, but you will have generals that will help you, guards to protect you. Your mother is wise to worry for you. I would rather you fish the seas as well."_

_"Would Alexander let me? Fish the seas?"_

_"Look at me," Hephaestion said, placing a hand on Hercules'. "When you are sixteen, your father will ask you to be his second. If you don't want to be king, he will be angry, but not because he does not love you. You can be anything, and if you do not want to be king, well, then you are wiser than I could have ever imagined." _

_"Hephaestion," a voice called out, causing both to look over their shoulders. Cassander was climbing down the steep embankment, worry creasing his brow. "Alexander needs you, now."_

The memory faded as Arast again spoke his name, this time cocking his head in confusion. Cassander had been so young, kept away from age then, and Hephaestion…he truly was beautiful, soft spoken, but was nonetheless a warrior, everything that Alexander could have wanted. Blinking, Hercules stood, and Arast did the same. He then, hearing the crunching of boots on the drying summer's grass, glanced over his shoulder and saw Cassander coming down the embankment. Oh, how age had changed him. It was clear to see that he was the same man, but for the first time Hercules could tell the differences that he'd never known. Once a young soldier, he'd been bronzed by the sun, and while lean, he'd still managed to build muscles in his thighs and arms, which now were gone, covered instead by simplicity. His long hair had turned a few shades darker, perhaps, and now seemed drier, and for the fist time Hercules saw the white strands of hair that were beginning to streak his hair. Was he truly only forty, only eight years older than Alexander had been, than Hephaestion had been? Hercules had not seen them age though, as no one had. Perhaps silver would have streaked Hephaestion's long locks as well, or perhaps Alexander's muscling would have faded as Cassander's had. He wondered, what would have happened to their great myth, their great names, had they been given the chance to age? Would they truly live on if they would have lived out their lives? Hercules could not answer such things, nor did he want to. Instead, he handed the pail to Arast, who approached his father with it. For the first time, Cassander seemed to take an interest, and knelt down, congratulating his son on his treasure. He then told him to take it to the cook, and Arast happily obliged him. Hercules stared after the child for a moment, before realizing that Cassander had not cared about the fish at all, but instead had only remembered too that it was Hephaestion who had taught him to fish.

"I remember," Cassander said, as if he had read his mind for him. It was strange, that they shared such a bond when they were not connected in blood. Yet, had Alexander and Hephaestion not shared such a bond, a bond that could be satisfied with secret gestures and meaningful glances? Perhaps he shared a bond with Cassander that neither could explain. Perhaps there was no bond, just the desire to behold one.

"You were visiting Ecbatana. We had just returned and Alexander's spirits were weak –the decision to cross the deserts back to Persia was his single worst decision. I suppose all leaders need to make at least one, or they're gods," Cassander said, and then paused, leaning against the base of the shade tree. "He ordered for Barsine to send you, and she did, knowing that you longed to see him as well –though you were not deprived of some other father in your life. They had fought, all knew it, and when you came Alexander could not even bare to see you, so Hephaestion took you fishing. It was the last time you saw him, before he…I suppose he would have wanted it that way."

"I saw him die," Hercules whispered softly. Cassander's head shot up, as if he'd been slapped hard across the face. "That night, in the hallway, that's how I remembered. I spoke with him, and he told me to go through the passageway, but I stopped. The doctor came, and then Alexander came, and I watched him die as Alexander spoke of the future –a future they both knew they would never have."

"Perhaps it is good you know," Cassander replied, his voice suddenly hardened, suppressing the feelings that coursed through his body. "You can write about it someday. Make sure to mention that Roxanne killed him. No, on second thought, don't give her that much power. He died from a broken heart. But that's not what I'm here about. You have one lesson left, one that I cannot teach you."

There was silence between them, a silence that Hercules was not ready to break. He was still staring at Cassander, noting how time had changed him, how his hands seemed weathered now, calloused, but how his mind was still as sharp as ever. He supposed that if he had a choice, he too would rather have died young and lived on. He wondered, how would history treat Cassander now, now that the Empire was four divided sections, now that Alexander was already gone. Had all that Cassander worked for been given up, if only so that he could return to Athens with a seven year old boy, that he would then pretend was his bastard for years to come?

"You need an heir," Cassander stated, pushing away from the tree and beginning their trek back up the bank. Hercules followed, staying a close distance away, for the first time wary of his situation. Cassander said nothing more until they were entering the slave quarters, a route directly leading to the palace. Hercules was caught off guard when Cassander stopped suddenly, turning to face him. "You are to be married by the end of the day."

"What," Hercules laughed. Suddenly he stopped though, realizing that Cassander was not joking. His face was made of hardened lines. He was not joking, not at all. "You can't be serious. Marry? Tonight?"

"Kings make sacrifices," Cassander elaborated. "We all had to make sacrifices, even Alexander. He died with three wives and two lovers. And from that, there is only you. Ptolemy encouraged him to wed again. I encouraged him to settle and then take a Macedonian girl. However, the gods gave the world only you. But he needed an heir. You, Hercules, need heirs as well, especially if you are going to reclaim your title. You'll be in danger, and, should you fall, your heirs will carry out your work."

"But not even Alexander married in five hours."

"Hephaestion did. Come, do you think he wanted to marry Stateira's sister? No, he protested plenty, but Alexander wanted the arrangement to be. So, it was done. And, for the record, it was done in a matter of hours. You must make a sacrifice for your Empire, Hercules Alexandros. You can wed someone you know, someone you meet, a slave for all I care. Roxanne was not of noble blood. Pick."

"I can't just pick," Hercules explained. "You, of all people, should understand that love is the only thing that keeps people together."

"Love kept Alexander and Hephaestion together. He did not love Barsine, Stateira, or even Roxanne. But he did love you, so you had better make him proud. Otherwise, I will name Arast my successor, and I'll die of a wounded heart. Which would you have?"

"I…"

Something had caught Hercules' eye, and he stopped protesting. A young woman was being drug to a slave encampment, shouting and kicking all the way. Her straight black hair framed her curved face, hiding her Persian heritage slightly. Crossing his arms over his chest, Cassander watched as Carmalla was shoved into the iron-cage, screaming and slapping at her captors as they locked the door. Hercules walked in her direction, calling out to the guards, ordering them to step away. Cassander smirked, but let Hercules do as he wish. Who was he to reveal Carmalla's truth?

"Back away," Hercules ordered, placing a hand on the iron. Carmalla screamed something at the man in her tongue, but the boy paid no heed. Instead, he turned his attention to her, reaching through the bars with a hand. "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?"

"No," she breathed, stepping away from grubby hands that touched her. Pressed against the grate now, she let her eyes fall to the ground, submitting to this prince. Her eyes flickered upward at the king behind him though and held back a sneer. She hated Cassander almost as much as she did Alexander. Her eyes fell back to Hercules, who had ordered for the guard to open the gate once more. As the gate opened Hercules took her wrist and pulled her out, glancing at her arms and legs for bruises. She seemed fine enough, just angered.

"She is a slave," Cassander said, stepping up beside Hercules, who raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "They'll take her to a market further North and sell her, since we are unsure of where she is from. No doubt a runaway."

"I am no slave," Carmalla hissed defiantly, lunging out at Cassander. She would have ripped his throat out, if she had the chance, but was unable to. He stepped back and the brat stepped in front of her.

"I'll handle this," Hercules told her before he turned to face Cassander. "You don't know that she's a slave."

"Which makes her slave enough for my liking. Let them take her."

"No! Wait. What if," he paused, glancing over his shoulder. He thought about the sacrifices that Hephaestion made for Alexander, for the Empire. He then thought about the sacrifices that Alexander had made for his Empire. It was time that he make a sacrifice. "What if I take her as my bride?"

"Her?"

"No," Carmalla instantly protested, pulling her hand away from Hercules. He turned and began to say something but she shook her head. "No! I will not be your bride. No! Get away. No!"

"There are fates much more unkind," Cassander said, raising an eyebrow at Carmalla. Carmalla seemed to glare back at him, but Hercules did not notice. Instead, he turned to her and placed a hand n her forearm. Staring at her for a moment, he then turned back to Cassander. Carmalla went silent behind him.

"She will be my bride."

"Hercules," a voice came from beside the scene. Hercules turned to face Leassandra, who frowned in confusion and disappointment. He had never seen her look so hurt before. Never. She now kept her lip from trembling, but he knew that she was on the verge of tears. Why, he could not have said before, but he suddenly knew now. She had fallen in love with him.

"Lea," he began, but she put a hand up and shook her head.

She then did something that would make her father incredibly proud. She swallowed her pride and smiled as if she were truly happy at the arrangement. "Congratulations, Hercules. It is time that you took a bride. Forgive me, I should be preparing a room for my new sister-in-law. Excuse me."

"Lea wait!"

"Go speak with her," Cassander said. "I will watch Carmalla. We will be right behind you, I promise. Hurry."

Hercules glanced apologetically at Carmalla, but then took off after Leassandra at a dead run. Cassander smirked. He had seen it long ago, the look in his daughter's eyes for Hercules. It was precisely why he had mentioned long ago that he was not her brother. Not by blood. He'd planted the seeds of despair, and now they were blooming. As Hercules disappeared from sight, he turned to Carmalla, and smiled, but it was a smile of pure hatred.

"Dorganus' daughter," he laughed. "I would never have thought to see his spitting image again."

"You killed my father!"

"Your father killed himself when he took Hephaestion captive," Cassander fired back, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her forward. "I will tell you now, if you harm Hercules in any way, I'll take your head and hang it next to your father's in my trophy room."

"You disgust me!"

"Good," he replied coldly. "Forget your place, as a slave, one time –and I will kill you."

Meanwhile, Hercules had reached the steps of the palace and vaulted up them as if they were nothing. He then ran down the hallway, reaching Leassandra just as she shut the door to her chambers. Sliding into the door, he knocked, pressing his head against the door.

"Lea," he pleaded, "you don't understand. Lea, please! Open the door!"

"No," she replied. He could tell that she was wiping tears from her eyes. How could he have not known? He knocked again, and once again she screamed back a no. "Go away! Go to your foreign bride."

"I don't love her Leassandra –I just…they were going to sell her Leassandra. You…Leassandra believe me, I love you, but it is complicated. You are my sister."

"No," she said, throwing the door open, revealing her reddened face and tear-filled eyes. "I'm not your sister Hercules! Everyone has questioned just who you belong to. Did you think no one else saw your stature, your eyes? Please!"

"Lea…"

"This is the lesson on sacrifice, isn't it? Well, I hope that you enjoy your Empire, because as of now, you are dead to me!"

Again she slammed the door. Hercules knew at that moment that the most important person in the world to him was gone….

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A/N: Let me know what you think!


	9. Women are Harpies

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 8 of 12, "Women are Harpies"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**IMPORTANT****: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read ****THE MISSING**** you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

**Dorganus**: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)

**Carmalla: **Car-maul-ah (Dorganus' daughter)

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Another strand of hair pulled away from her scalp as she raked the brush through her hair. As the door opened she glared at the mirror, and had looks been able to kill her stare would have been the equivalent to Zeus' thunderbolts. Cassander only smirked, as he often did, at his wife's clear hatred for him. He had loved challenges, but Syrikriah was something else entirely. Setting his cup down he turned and crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the dresser, waiting for her moaning to begin. Her lips parted, as if to protest, but she then went back to brushing her hair. He wondered how she had not gone bald by her own hand yet. Yet her silence did not last long. She finally whirled around to face him, malice and discontent twisting her one beautiful face into some spite of the gods.

"Hercules weds and suddenly he is worthy of a crown while you treat your own son like you do that bastard?"

"Was there a question," Cassander taunted, his eyes glittering in the light of the nearby candles. Syrikriah stood and crossed the room, with the same fury of Olympias he might add, but she did not scare him. Even as she raised her hand and struck him across the face he was unthreatened. He lunged forward, grabbing her wrists, and shoved her away. He'd seen Alexander use the same tactic against Roxanne plenty of times, but never would have believed he too would hate his wife.

"Hercules is not yours!"

"No," he screamed back, veins bulging in his forehead and arms, "he is not _your_ son! Hercules is my son, and you will treat him as nothing less. _I_," he explained, grabbing her face, digging his fingers into her cheeks, "was the one that traveled to Babylon, and then into the Kush. _I_ was Alexander's Companion, and _I_ fought at his side, and damn you, _I_ was at his deathbed. If _I _protect the only son he left behind then I'll do it, and without your complaints!"

"His son," Syrikriah whispered, the realization hitting her when Cassander did not. Her eyes grew wide and she jerked away from her husband, whirling her brush at him. Hercules was not his son! Had he been a bastard child it would have been bad enough to give him the crown, but that was no longer the case. Hercules was not even related to Cassander, not in the slightest.

"Keep quiet."

"How dare you," she screeched. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. Cassander had betrayed her, not in the bed of another, but instead, he had betrayed her every day, bringing that whelp into her life, ripping her son from the throne. "You bring him here so that you can rid yourself of your own son, of our son! You disgust me. How could you do this to us! What debt do you owe that spoilt brat? His father is dead, dead! He'll never get the Empire back –and neither will you!"

"Spoilt? Hercules is spoilt," Cassander laughed. "No, dear wife, you are spoilt. All you see are shades of gold. Perhaps it is not about the Empire. It is only you who mention the Empire. And Hercules, spoilt, you wretch! He's asked nothing of me, nothing, unlike you! Do this, do that, send Arast to school here, Leassandra needs new dresses, you need more jewels and finery. Perhaps I disgust you, Syrikriah, but you had better stand behind me because your disgusting husband is the one that pays for your life of luxury! Do I treat you so badly? I've kept only you as a wife, I've sired no bastards, I've done all that you should ask of me!"

"I would be proud, but you've given the throne to Alexander's son, not your own! What kind of a fool are you?"

"One who understands loyalty," he spat, shoving her away once again. "What once was unified is now four pieces, four pieces that should be given to that boy! He will wed, he will have an heir, and then he will take my forces against Ptolemy's, and he will get his damned Empire!"

"I'll tell…"

"Say one word," he hissed, wrapping a hand around her throat, cutting off her air. She began writhing and gasping, her fists beating against his arms, but he did not care. He only wrapped his hand tighter around her throat, until she began to still in his arms.

"Say one word," he repeated, "and they will be your last."

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Hercules did not know what he was supposed to say, or do. The awkward silence had only separated them further, Carmalla now across the table, taking a sip from her cup of tea. Clearly she was not impressed with him, and the more he sat there the more he feared he had made a horrible decision. Surely Hephaestion had sacrificed when he wed, but then again, he was not choosing between mere love and a kingdom. Alexander had married. He'd had an heir. It did not make him happier, and Hercules knew deep down that he had never loved his mother, but still, it was necessary. He had still always loved Hephaestion. Hercules nearly dropped his fork when he thought about why he was considering his decision. He was in love with Leassandra.

"Have I done something displeasing," Carmalla asked, taking him from his thoughts. She set her cup down and leaned back in her chair, slouching. "I am confused –so many choices, but you choose me? I am four years your senior. Would you not be suspicious that I am not already married?"

"No," he answered. "In truth, I could not see you sent away a slave, considering I'm not sure you are a slave. But I also need an heir, and Cassander has decided I need to be wed by tonight."

"Why?"

"He fears for his health," he lied. He thought of the struggles they were having now. It would only be worse to tell her that he needed an heir within a moment so that he could reclaim what belonged to Alexander, his father. No, he would mention his lineage later, far later.

"I lost my father too," she admitted. He noted that she did not appear sad as she raised her cup again. She looked up at him, something dancing behind her veiled eyes as she spoke. "He was murdered in India by an imposing army."

"I'm sorry."

"His murderers will be repaid," was her reply. She then set her cup back down and stood. Excusing herself, she then left the room. Hercules admitted inwardly that he did not mind her absence. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead on the table and sighed. How could he have been so rash? As he closed his eyes, his answer came…

_"I cannot pretend that I love her," Hephaestion insisted, throwing himself down on the couch. Neither man was aware of the child that had crept under the nearby bed. Games of hide and seek had become worse and worse, and now Hercules knew that no one would even look in the King's chambers. Smiling, he watched as Hephaestion rubbed his temples, a subtle pain etched across his brow. Covering his mouth, he continued to watch as Alexander tossed a pen across the room in anger. _

_"Just spend a night with her!"_

_"I have," Hephaestion insisted, throwing the pen back at Alexander. Both did not note the black ink that dripped onto the floor. Alexander cursed as the pen hit his desk, ruining a draft of a letter he had just written. But there were other things on his mind. He could not help but wonder why Hephaestion still did not have an heir. It was easy to explain though, and it did not take various reports from his spies to draw him a picture. It was hard for a wife to become pregnant when her husband never visited her chambers. _

_"You need a son!"_

_"For what," the other asked, pushing himself up. "You need an heir, because you are leaving behind your dream. But what do I need an heir for Alexander? Is it not enough for you that I love you? Everything I have done, I have done for you." _

_"It must have been terrible, following me to Babylon."_

_"I did not mean it like that."_

_"Hephaestion," Alexander said, now dropping to his knees before Hephaestion, who sat on the sofa. The king then rested his head on Hephaestion's lap, and Hephaestion could not stop from running his hands through Alexander's long hair. "You need a son, my love. Who will Hercules play with, if not your son?" _

_"I don't love her," he whispered. _

_"I know, but she is Stateira's sister, and she is fond of you. She is perfect for you, Hephaestion. She too has come from Babylon, with you, with me, to this cold place. I know that you do not love her," Alexander replied, kissing the back of Hephaestion's hands. "But please, please, go to her tonight. You once wished me a son, and now, I wish you a son." _

"Thinking again," Leassandra asked, pulling Hercules away from his dream. His head shot up and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was glad that she was in the same room, let alone speaking to him. Again he reminded himself that he could not love her. She was Cassander's daughter, and she was twelve, too young to love, and he was to be wed in a matter of hours.

"Is Carmalla preparing?"

"Lea," he pleaded, "I do not want this to come between us. Please, try to understand, this is what I must do to…"

"I know," she interrupted. They were then interrupted as the door opened. It was Pletorus, who summoned them both to dinner. Hercules glanced at Leassandra, hoping that he could tell her with only this look that he did love her. If she noticed, she gave him no notice of it. Instead, she rose, placing her hand in Pletorus' and let him escort her into the hall. _So_, Hercules thought, _this will be where my future ends and begins._

As the dinner began Carmalla was escorted into the room. She sat across from her to-be husband, but Hercules could not easily forget that it was Leassandra who sat next to him. On the other side, at the head of the table, was Cassander. As usual he was glaring at Syrikriah, but this should not surprise anyone. Soon enough, it was time for the toast. Those that had been gathered knew that Cassander's 'son' would be wed, and Hercules swallowed as his 'father' stood.

"Friends," Cassander greeted. As he did, Hercules drank another cup of unmixed wine. "Tonight, we congratulate my son, Hercules, on his marriage to Carmalla, of India."

"Not all of us," Syrikriah interjected, loud enough for those around the table to hear. Hercules watched as Leassandra sucked in a breath, and as Arast's eyes grew wide. He, on the other hand, was only glad that the hundreds of pairs of eyes were no longer fixed on him. Carmalla, on the other hand, seemed pleased. Hercules hoped that she did not understand Syrikriah's words, and was just smiling because she thought it was what she was supposed to do. Syrikriah then pushed her chair back, loudly scraping wood against tile, and then practically ran past Cassander. Cassander smirked, but raised his glass despite the scene, and did what any king would do. He went on.

"She is jealous that so many were not present on her wedding day," he laughed, and to Hercules' surprise, others laughed as well. At first he thought that they were only laughing to please him, but he soon realized that they believed Cassander's lies. Sighing, he turned his attention back to his wine, which again had been refilled.

"Now," Cassander smiled, "we shall cheer them off to bed!"

Hercules wanted to vomit as cheers went out, but he managed to stand without passing out. He came to the end of the table and held his hand out. Carmalla smiled, fake, but smiled, and took his hand. He then began to lead her up the stairs. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder, even though he should not have. For the first time he saw Leassandra cry due to his actions. Closing his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stairs. When they reached the top he reminded himself not to throw himself back down. When they entered his room he reminded himself not to instantly pass out on the bed. However, the later was hard to do. As soon as he hit the bed he fell asleep.

He woke only an hour later to Carmalla running her hand up his thigh. His vision was blurred and his head ached, but he admitted that he was a man. Perhaps he did not love her, but he knew that in order to have an heir he would have to pretend, as he remembered Hephaestion had done. Hesitantly, he began what needed to be done, only to end up asleep again.

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"Liar," someone screamed. Hercules sat up instantly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Beside him Carmalla still slept, her bare chest exposed to the light of the moon. He pulled the sheet over her as he rose, pulling his chiton on. He heard something clatter to the ground, and reached for his dagger as he opened the door to his chambers. What could be going on at this hour?

He entered the hall quietly, shutting the door behind him, and looked at the vase that lay shattered on the floor. There were drops of blood as well, and they appeared in the dim light as if they had come from Cassander's rooms further down the hall. Drawing a breath, Hercules followed them slowly, dagger tightly gripped in his hand. Another scream echoed through the hall, and as he came around the corner, he paused.

"Liar," Syrikriah cursed against Cassander, beating at him with her fists. She then reached out, scratching his cheek. Even in the dark Hercules could see the bloody trails that were left behind. Stepping into the shadows Hercules decided to remain, but not to interfere, not yet. It was not his business.

"It is his," Cassander cursed, reaching up and touching his cheek. Syrikriah then lashed out again, cutting his other cheek with her nails. It was then that he pushed her. Hercules dropped his dagger as Syrikriah fell back against the railing of the balcony, and then went over it. Both hands went to his mouth. However, as Cassander turned, he seemed rather calm.

"Women," he reminded Hercules as he brushed past him, "are Harpies."

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A/N: Let me know what you think!


	10. Olympias' Execution

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 9 of 12, "Olympias' Execution"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

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There was nothing that he could say to make the situation better, nothing that he could do now for Syrikriah, who perhaps was not in the hands of a better keeper, better than Cassander that was. Head atop his tucked up knees he held himself and tried to remain calm as he heard the berated screams from down the hall. First the screams came from a servant, who had stumbled upon the bloody body, and the next were from the servants that had leaned over the balcony to view the mess. The noises plagued him, but it was far worse when he heard silence. He knew what silence meant. The servants parted, letting her pass, and then came the scream that shattered the night. He could picture Leassandra collapsing, despite the help of the maids around her, and he could see her sobs, not just hear them. Holding his breath, he kept himself from crying, and he kept himself from running to her. Cassander, on the other hand, cut into another apple as he leaned back in his chair, the light of the early morning sun capturing his face.

"It could have been far worse," Cassander stated, staring out at the hills as the sun escaped their wraths. He then turned his face back to Hercules, and he frowned. Perhaps Olympias was right, and that he was ruining this child. However, he was strong. Perhaps stronger than his father was. Instead of saying more he waited for the youth to speak, waited for him to collect himself.

"She did not deserve death," Hercules finally stated, unfolding his legs and rising. This was all he said as he exited the room, leaving Cassander to himself. Cassander did not even have the heart to watch him go. He was wise, too, as Hephaestion had hoped he would be.

_There was silence in the room as he leaned over the crib, watching as the boy-child picked up the carved lion and began to place it in his mouth. The baby giggled and threw his fist in the air, stretching out with little hands. It was odd to think that he too had once been so small, so helpless, that he had been taken care of in every way. He reached down, handing his finger over to the child, and merely stared at him. He could not recall how long he stared, and then he heard something behind him as the baby gnawed at his finger. Glancing over his shoulder he pulled his hand away as Hephaestion entered the room, his presence even more commanding to the child, who began yelping for his attention. Hephaestion, saying nothing, stepped past Cassander and reached down for the child, taking him and cradling him in his arms, more careful than even the child's mother had been with him. _

_"He is a horrible judge of character," Cassander stated, taking a seat on a rocking chair as Hephaestion held the child, who had instantly fallen asleep in his arms. The sight was odd enough, the greatest of the generals holding the tiniest of babies. Cassander would have laughed, if he had the heart, but instead remained quiet, thinking. Perhaps this child would bring Alexander and Hephaestion closer again, pushing him out of the way in the process. _

_"No," Hephaestion disagreed, running a hand gently over the baby's head, which already seemed full of gold-spun hair. Cassander, and others, had already noted that his eyes rivaled Hephaestion's, spreading the rumor that the child was a gift from Ammon Zeus –a child of both kings. "He is a perfect assessor. He appreciates when his mother holds him, smiles when his nurses enter, but when Alexander enters the room he writhes to be in his arms. With you, he was telling you just how small you are in the way of things, but just how important that is."_

_"You weave tales again," Cassander smirked. "And once more I am confused by your meaning."_

_"We're older," Hephaestion explained, setting the sleeping boy back into his crib. "Soon we will join our fathers, for better or worse. But that boy, Hercules Alexandros, will live on. All of the children will live on. Soon we will be nothing but ash, unimportant, except in that we have left behind successors."_

_"Alexander has left behind a successor," he corrected. _

_"You will have heirs as well. Soon, all of this constant riding, these battles, will cease. He likes to say that once we reach the edge of the earth we will turn back, and conquer in the opposite direction. I think we will be done by then," Hephaestion admitted. "Who would stand against Alexander then, I wonder. No, I think it will end soon Cassander, and then things will settle. We might be old men, but still, there will be time. You'll have children, and then they can fight for Hercules' attention during training." _

_"And what of you," Cassander then asked. "Are you not going to produce a Companion for him? If Alexander did not have you he would slip into madness. It would only make sense that it be the same for Hercules." _

_"Unlike Alexander, I have never been able to wear two faces," he replied, the angst clear in his voice. Cassander continued to look upon him, feeling sorrow for the general who would not take the time to feel sorrow for himself. Alexander had betray him plenty of times on this grand journey, beginning perhaps at the start, falling in love with Hephaestion all together, unable to separate duty from love. Yet it had only worsened the farther they marched from Macedonian soil. There had been wives first, wives that Hephaestion tried to understand, swore he understood, but when Cassander saw him hidden in the shadows, staring at Alexander and Roxanne sometimes, he knew this was all to flatter Alexander. He understood, but his heart still ached, and he still would have been happier if he could give Alexander a son. No, Cassander negated, he would have been happier if Alexander was not king, if they could have lived out their lives in utter simplicity. But, then again, perhaps the extravagance of it all made the chaos something Hephaestion could grasp. Still, wives had soon turned into Bagoas, which try as he might the general would never understand. He was not all a man, the eunuch boy that Alexander had taken to his bed, but was he necessary? _

_"I would have done better by you," Cassander then admitted, knowing even as he said it that it would not be of much help to Hephaestion. His heart would always remain Alexander's, even after the occasional caresses he had managed to share with him. Yet as he stood Hephaestion's head tilted upward, watching him, studying him, and then his lips parted. _

_"Sometimes," Cassander then admitted, "I wonder where we would be, if Philip had not been murdered."_

_"I find it best," Hephaestion answered, "not to wonder. But Cassander, someday, you'll have a tale that will make your son proud of you." _

_"Perhaps," Cassander nodded, hand on the door. He could say nothing else though, for it pained him to see Hephaestion so utterly miserable. Yet as he rose, bending over the cradle, Cassander saw him smile. No, he was not miserable now, not when he knew that Alexander's dreams had been fulfilled. _I find it best not to wonder,_ his voice lingered in Cassander's mind, causing him to laugh silently. Of course Hephaestion did not want to wonder, his dreams had long ago vanished in the shadow of Alexander's._

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Hercules motioned for the courier to come in, hating that everyone insisted on such formalities with him. The page came forward though and set the letter down before him and then scurried out of the room. Perhaps he had heard the joke about killing the messenger too many times. Sighing, Hercules sat down and began to unfold the parchment, breaking the seal before he took too much note of it. As the letter opened something fell out, clattering to the ground. Hercules dropped to his knees and searched the floor, running his hands over the marble until he found the ring, which had managed to get under the grand sofa. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pulled it toward him, and when he opened his hand he examined the golden trinket. The band was thick, gold, and the stone in the center was a dark syrupy color, with thin lines of orange swimming through it. Sliding it on a finger, he then began to read the letter.

_Hercules Alexandros, Alexander IV, son of Alexander, Heir to the Empire, this letter should reach you in due time. I have been under the watchful eye of Cassander for years now, but the woman's heart is wise, and I risk all to get word to you. _

_I have lived a life that will be meaningless when I am gone, ashes left to blow across the lands. I was married to a tyrant, and raised a son that took control of the world, only to lose it later. What good will I be in history in comparison to either? Fate was against me in the begging, for I am a woman, a mother, and when they speak of Alexander years from now, they will forget who raised him. He will simply be a name, living forever in history, forever young, forever glorious, while I am nothing, while his Companions are nothing, and importantly, while Cassander is nothing. _

_He is a snake, using you for his own purposes. He has filled you head with lies about me, I am sure, but you must know that I loved Alexander, and that as his son I will forever love you as well. The Empire is yours, young Hercules, if only you break away from Cassander. But, in truth, power, I have learned, is nothing. It comes and goes, like the sun, changing hands before you have felt it warm in your own. Power is danger, and with danger comes lust and love, but they, those we love the most, are always the victims of our struggles to be better, to be bold. _

_The Empire, while vast, while yours, is a curse to our family. It brought about Philip's death, but I, in vain, pushed Alexander into Persia. He did not belong there. Perhaps no one does, only their kind. Some will say later that he ran from me, and as I think upon him now, he does. I was too hard on him. I did not understand him. I used him to carry out what I could not, and it cost dearly. It cost Macedonia, who lost sons and fathers, brothers, plenty of them. It cost Hephaestion his life, sweet Hephaestion, whose only fault was loving Alexander more than he loved himself. He should have retired, become a regent, and he could have outlived us all, wise as he was, but he continued to follow my son, your father, with his heart open, until finally it gave out. Poison, they say. But I know my son, know his faults, and know that the only poison that could have claimed Hephaestion was the flaws of my son, his lovers, his wives, his mistakes. _

_It cost Alexander his life, losing Hephaestion, but more importantly, following a dream that should not have been. Wise men would have told him not to leave, had they not wanted their own desires filled too. Aristotle would have told him to turn back, and perhaps he would have listened, but Aristotle craved knowledge of their world. Oh, my poor child, you have been born into a cursed family, one of the highest standing, but the lowest of falls. _

_I would make it my wish to see you, to hold you just for a moment, to comfort you. This letter will have to do, because I am no fool, I know that I am now a threat to Cassander because I know of your existence. He is likely sending for me now, as you read this, and soon I will join my son._

_I mean only to warn you, the Empire is nothing. If you were wise, you would pack a bag now, and you would leave these lands. You would leave, never return. But I have seen your soul, have seen it in Hephaestion's eyes, who you carry. His eyes always did give him away. You have your father in you, too much of your father. You'll want blood and dirt, glory, everything that he craved you will need to feed your hunger. Dear child, please, let it be true that you are of both men, Alexander and Hephaestion, and for once let Hephaestion stand against Alexander –and let him win. Be wise. Go. Do not look back, for your life is ahead of you. _

_I remain forever yours, though forever may soon be cut short, and when I reach Hades' hall, I will tell your father how proud of you he would be. I would tell them both. I shall tell them all. Your grandmother, Olympias. _

Hercules looked at the ring as he set the letter down. He had seen it before, on Alexander's hand, long ago. Suddenly his world began to blur, and he faded from this stark reality into the past, where he could remember Alexander kneeling down before him, holding out the ring.

_"It came from a time where men worshipped the sun, and the stars…" _

"Hercules."

_"Someday, I will give it to you, as Hephaestion gave it to me…"_

"Hercules?"

_"It is the ring of a king…"_

"Hercules," Leassandra shouted. Hercules nearly jumped away from her as the memory faded. He wrapped his fingers around the ring, tightly holding it, but it was only Leassandra. She leaned against the entrance of his doorway, casual, but he noted the suspicion in her eyes. But already she knew him like a book she had read a hundred times. She soon asked, "You seem to remember your past more and more. It catches up with you."

"I am beginning to think that I do not want it to catch me," he admitted. He then rubbed the bridge of his nose before sweeping his hands over his closed eyes. "They are like constant memories, coming and going, no matter where I am, what I'm doing. I would have been up all night, had I not had so much to drink. What are they Leassandra, these visions? Are they meant to haunt me?"

"No," she said, coming forward and taking his hand in hers. She then knelt before him, his own protector, though now he would not recognize this. "The pagans believe that spirits sometimes guide us. They say that they coincide with the gods and their help. Perhaps your father is trying to guide you; his love for you must reach even beyond his death."

"And am I worth his troubles?"

"What do you mean?"

"He knew what he wanted, always. When he was a boy he had already planned his Persian Campaign. He was sixteen when he led his first battle against the Thebans, and by twenty he was king. I am sixteen, have no true training for battle, have not taken my studies, or those gifted to me, seriously, and I've already made the worst mistake of my life."

"Shh," Leassandra whispered, titling her head up and placing a quick kiss against his lips. She then drew back, though both were clearly eager for more. "Alexander was brilliant because he did as he wanted, not because he was molded by his father into a perfect son. If Cassander's lesson would have you do something that would compromise your own self worth, then the lesson is that you should not follow the path he would set for you. Follow your own."

"When did you become so wise?"

"I stumbled upon correspondence between Hephaestion and Aristotle. There were also a few letters between Hephaestion and my father. Letters lay hidden throughout father's tombs, you know that."

"I will right my wrong to you," he vowed, referring to Carmalla.

They were then rudely interrupted. There was a sudden pounding at the door, and when it swung open Cassander entered. He was still angry, it was easy to see, but Hercules could also see where tears had run down his cheeks. The lines were faint, the salt drying, but there nonetheless. He pointed to Leassandra and then to another door in the room, which would lead her to the opposite hallway if she took it. She nodded and released Hercules' hand and left, as told. This left Hercules alone, with the exception of Cassander, who immediately motioned for Hercules to follow him. Like an obedient dog, he followed, believing that the day could not get worse. However, the day could get worse, far worse. Soon they were on their way to the dungeon, and already he could hear the screaming. As they entered, the rest of Hercules' heart sunk.

Olympias lay bound on the ground, wrists behind her bag, bleeding as she tried to fight against her restraints. She saw him, Hercules, and for the first time the Queen of All seemed afraid. Hercules went to step forward, to throw himself over her if he had to, but Cassander caught his wrist and pulled him back.

"Not this time," he insisted.

"Do not frighten him you animal," Olympias cursed, even as Cassander stepped forward, grabbing her by the hair and jerking her upward. He did this only so that he could drag her, kicking, to the beheading block. He pushed her down, forcefully tying her down with the restraints that waited for her. Hercules went to step forward again, but Cassander shouted at him before he could. He froze, unsure of what exactly was going on, but he knew that this time Cassander was treading water in the deep end.

"Tell me about the letter," Cassander ordered, coming forward, staring Hercules down. Hercules said nothing, not even when Cassander grabbed him by the shoulders, digging his fingers into him, and shoved him against the wall. "Tell me about the letter! I know she sent you one!"

"Tyrant," Olympias screamed, buying Hercules time to assess the situation.

"Someone shut her up!"

Hercules watched as one of the guards placed his hand over her mouth. He received a bite, and drew his hand back with a yelp. Cassander whirled around and crossed the room like a caged animal, pushing the guard out of the way. He tore a long strip of cloth away from the bottom of Olympias' dress and then wrapped it around her mouth, successfully gagging her, even though she tried to bite at him. She twisted and thrashed but managed to get nothing done. Smirking Cassander turned back around and glared at Hercules, who would now take the rest of his attack.

"What did it say!"

"It was nothing," Hercules replied, his voice steady even though inside he felt himself trembling. He stood straight, keeping his balled fists at his side, his jaw clenched defiantly. "She only wished me well, hoped that I would consider the Empire in more ways that one."

"Harpy," Cassander screamed over his shoulder at Olympias. Hercules could hear her laughing, demonically almost, as if she was pleased with Cassander's distress. He then turned his attention back to Hercules and explained, "There are things that kings must do, and today, she will die."

"For what, not allowing you to take away her last privacy?"

"She is dangerous. She ruined Alexander, and she will ruin you."

"Are you sure of that," asked Hercules, cocking an eyebrow. He then brushed past Cassander and went to Olympias, dropping to his knees before her. He pulled the gag away from her mouth and then looked at her, deeply. He was a pawn, he had decided. They were all pawns to one another.

"Leave here," Olympias whispered.

"No, he will not…"

"It is time," Olympias stopped him. She then smiled, a single tear falling from her eye. "Go, before he does it, and hold my letter close to your heart. I've lost one child, I cannot lose another."

Hercules leaned forward and kissed his grandmother on the forehead. He then stood and left the room, as directed. They both knew, deep in their hearts, that Cassander's mind was set. As the door to the dungeons shut behind him he heard the unmistakable swing of a blade, a blade that sunk into wood. He did not look back. He kept walking.

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A/N: Cassander was always an ass, this should not surprise anyone. But let me know what you think. As always, I'll get another chapter out ASAP.


	11. A Fight for Princes

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 10 of 12, "A Fight for Princes"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: I know, Cassander is not the nicest person in the world. I am sorry. Also, Ptolemy had two sons, and neither was Ptoleus. However, you'll see why (below) this third son would never have been mentioned anyway. Just a cute little twist of history. Pardon moi.

**IMPORTANT****: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read ****THE MISSING**** you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

**Dorganus**: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)

**Carmalla: **Car-maul-ah (Dorganus' daughter)

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_Alexandria, Egypt… Palace of Ptolemy…a fortnight prior _

It was late in the afternoon when Ptoleus set the parchment letter down on his father's desk, taking a seat and folding his arms over his chest. Ptolemy reached forward, taking the letter, and began reading. He then folded the letter and tossed it back to his son. So, had all of his years come to this, to hunting down a child that was the true heir to the Empire? Sighing, the elder ran a hand over his face and then shook his head. He would not go to Athens, not for this, he owed at least that to Alexander's name.

"He could take all," Ptoleus snorted, hating that his father was not going to do anything but sit around and wait for Hercules to grow older. Wasn't it hypocritical that his father would nag Cassander over simple things, but that this issue could be pushed to the side. He set the letter back on the desk, slamming his hand on top of it.

"Olympias knows nothing more than we do," Ptolemy corrected his son, who was all too eager to chase after a possible leader. It was his fault, his corruption, that he wanted all power, no matter how he got it. It was the only disappointment that Ptolemy had found in his three sons, that they all craved power. Ptoleus was bad enough, but his younger two sons fought amongst each other as well, and soon they would set their eyes on Ptoleus, the eldest.

"She saw him, we have seen him," Ptoleus corrected. "That is the child of Alexander! What do you need to do something, Alexander's word from beyond the grave?"

"Enough," Ptolemy finally shouted. He stood, angrily shaking a hand at the boy, who for sixteen was too bold. "If you want to go to Athens," he pointed, "then go! Fight him in the streets if you would like, but not here! I'll not help you. Take a horse, take yourself, but you'll have none of my men, nothing from me."

"You would betray your son for a dead king," Ptoleus spat, wheeling around and leaving the tent. His father did not understand, could not understand. He was a fool. It would only take a group of people believing that he was Alexander's heir, and that in such he should rule all, and he would lose his standing in Alexandria immediately. Cursing, he glanced at his horse, tied just outside the stables. Perhaps he would pay Hercules a visit himself.

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_Outside of Cassander's palace at Athens…_

It was dark now, the sun already swallowed up by the horizon, the birds roosting in the trees above him. Even as thunder began to light up the angered skies, he remained, caught up in insomnia and his thoughts. He brought his knees to his chest as the rain began to pour from the skies, threatening crops that would be flooded in the morning. Drawing in a breath, he screamed as loud as he could, knowing that no one around would hear. His head then sunk back against the base of the tree and lighting and thundered overtook the skies. It was because of Olympias' death that the gods were so furious, he had decided nearly an hour ago. As he slid further down he let his legs sink into the mud and grabbed at the uprooted grass, again screaming.

Throwing his head forward he wrapped his arms around his knees and began to cry. He hated them, hated them all. He hated Cassander, hated his wife, hated Olympias, hated his father, hated Hephaestion –he hated everyone and everything at this moment. He closed his eyes and again tried to sleep, not caring about the rain that soaked his chiton, the thunder that rumbled through the sky, causing even the earth to quake. Still, sleep would not come. He wondered if it would ever come. Biting his lower lip he threw his head back and screamed again. He wanted the memories gone, wanted it all gone. It only ended in despair…it all ended in despair.

_"You know my weaknesses," Alexander whispered, reaching out and placing his hand in Hephaestion's. They never held hands, at least, he could not remember them holding hands. Hephaestion turned his head, eyes red and watering, and smiled, though it pained him. He could see the pain at the corner of his eyes, how his body tensed and tightened, but still, he smiled. Alexander reached up with his free hand and wiped tears away from his eyes. He was trying hard, so hard, to be stronger than the man on the bed. He was failing. _

_"The doctors are on the way," Alexander then stated, stroking a hand over Hephaestion's forehead, as if he could take the fever from him. Hercules drew in a breath. Was Hephaestion so ill that Alexander was in a state of tears? No, it could not be, not Hephaestion who had just two days before taken him to the river, taken him fishing again. He could not be sick. He had been so lively. No, his smile was the same as it had been days before. _

_"I've missed you."_

_"Forgive me for ever leaving you," Alexander pleaded, the tears now streaming from his eyes. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over Hephaestion's cheek and then wrapped his arms around him. Hephaestion, fighting through pain, wrapped an arm around Alexander's neck, holding his king against him. _

_"It is the destiny for the stars to chase the sun, coming close, but never touching. You are the sun to my stars, Alexander, and I pray, even without me, you will light up the world with your dreams." _

The rain had slowed but had not yet come to a stop. He did not know if he could blame the gods for wanted to seek vengeance against Cassander, who had now taken from the world a woman of much worth. Perhaps she had driven Alexander partly into madness, Hercules admitted, but he had always had Hephaestion to rein him back in. Their love was cursed, they were Trojan heroes living in the new world, but the ending would always be the same. Patroclus first, followed by Achilles. Calming, Hercules glanced up at the lighting in the sky, thinking of what Leassandra had said. Yes, perhaps this was some sign from his father, from the gods, but still, were the constant memories necessary? He began to rub his eyes before he heard muddied footsteps on the trail behind him.

"We cannot touch him," a voice whispered in the wind, causing Hercules to look over his shoulder. However, there was no one there. Instead, there was a muddied trail, boots pressed deeply into the ground, and they were not his own.

"I won't," another whispered, causing Hercules to push himself up and look in the opposite direction. He turned in a full circle, but still, there was nothing. He drew in another breath, rubbing his eyes, and then opened his eyes to the world again. Silence, apart from thunder.

Hercules, now standing soaked in the rain, knew that it was now too much. He turned, edging around the tree, and began on his way to the palace. It took him some time, the trails winding into others and he had no way of knowing where he was actually heading. Stopping once to kneel over, he looked at a bloodied knee and cursed before standing once more, and only as he did were the flames of the palace visible, the flames that stood on tall columns, awaiting the lost. Laughing under his breath he made his way into the palace, knowing well enough that he looked like a starved dog. Before he had reached his rooms he felt a hand clasp around his arm, and instantly a messenger was at his side. He dipped his head and then began to speak.

"My prince," the servant turned news bearer gasped, "the king has been requesting you all night. It is urgent, says he. Go, go now, before he asks again and you do not show."

"I will go," Hercules assured him. "But I think it would be best if I could wash before going."

"No, no, no time. Now. Urgent, urgent says he."

Hercules knew when arguing would not benefit him. He gave in and let the messenger drag him to Cassander's chambers. Before he could protest further he was literally pushed into the room. The doors shut behind him with a thud that echoed through the silence. He truly did not want to see Cassander, not now. He was not ready to face him, knowing that he had taken his only true family from him, the only family that he had left. But it must have been urgent, for Cassander was pacing the room as he entered, and stopped only when Hercules stepped forward.

"Where were you?"

"Out," Hercules replied, feeling that he did not have to explain himself to Cassander. Cassander seemed worried though. He came closer and then threw his arms around Hercules, pulling him close, without saying anything. He held him for a moment before he released him, and he then looked him over. Hercules' lip turned upward, unsure of what exactly was going on.

"Ptoleus is on his way here," Cassander then said, worry sounding in his voice. "He knows who you are, and it threatened by the power of your name alone. He has hired, with his prince's purse, mercenaries to track you down. You are worth a fortune dead, and when you were absent from dinner, I was beside myself."

"I was thinking."

"You cannot leave now, not unguarded. And when Ptoleus arrives, he will challenge you. Tomorrow, I believe, according to my couriers, he will reach Athens. I would have him killed before he reaches the palace, but, how would that look? It would be better if you accepted his challenge, and then kill him."

"You want me to kill Ptoleus? Why," Hercules asked, "so that you can eliminate another family one member at a time?"

"She was dangerous," Cassander stated. Someday the boy would see what life was truly like. He would soon understand that those he thought had crossed him were only protecting him, and those that he would have called his friends were his truest enemies. He was now forty, and just now he was reliving his life in his dreams, and this he now understood.

"So I am to kill Ptoleus?"

"If you could solve this diplomatically, then do so. But unless you are willing to drain your blood from your body and trade it with Ptoleus, I don't think you'll reach an accord."

"What if I don't want the Empire?"

"What?"

"If I don't want it," Hercules restated, staring at Cassander, watching just how deeply this hurt him. He did not want to hurt him. Surely he could understand that he did not want to harm him. He only wanted to live a meaningful life, one where he did not hate everyone he met, where he questioned those closest to him. Where he lost everything, and for nothing.

"You want it," Cassander said. It was the end of the conversation.

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_Mid-day…the next day…_

Hercules held the sword in his hand and looked to the sky, particularly to the eagle that soared through the sky. He swallowed, the heat affecting him for the first time. As he reached up and wiped sweat from his brow he tried not to look disturbed by the light that shone in the eyes. Instead, he stepped forward, facing Ptoleus for the first time in a good year. The last time he'd seen him they had also been on friendly terms, or so he'd thought. Now, it was the opposite. Ptoleus sneered at him, as if he had done something wrong by being born.

"I don't want to fight you," Hercules said, glancing to the left, where a balcony of onlookers stared down at him. Cassander merely stared, but Leassandra was holding tightly to Arast's hand, as if it would better things. Carmalla sat, seemingly bored. He could expect nothing more of her.

"And am I not to secure my throne," Ptoleus asked.

"I don't want Alexandria," Hercules assured him. "Ptoleus, you know that I am a better fighter than you. I've had more training, better training. Just have my word that you can keep Alexandria."

"No," Ptoleus said, lunging forward. Hercules said nothing as Ptoleus threw an arm around him. Instead, he held him, as a friend would. They both collapsed after a moment, falling to the dirt. Ptoleus then began to pull away, and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth.

"Forgive me," Hercules whispered, pulling his hidden dagger from the other's chest. He then released Ptoleus and let him fall. _So_, he thought, _I too am a tyrant. _

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A/N: Short, but I can do that. Review!


	12. The Truth, Revealed

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 11 of 12, "The Truth, Revealed"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: Forgive me for that posting update. Truly. Here is your next chapter, and I hope that you like it.

**IMPORTANT****: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read ****THE MISSING**** you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

**Dorganus**: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)

**Carmalla: **Car-maul-ah (Dorganus' daughter)

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He absolutely hated him, hated him more than he had hated anyone else in the world, but still he knew what obedience was, and in such he stood before him. He then dropped down to his knees and reached up for his hand, kissing the back. Again he stood and then glared at him, though he would have appeared hollow to others. Cassander saw the glare, knowing full well what it meant, and titled his chin up before he took his seat. Hercules then turned, taking the arm his bride offered him. How things had changed in the past weeks. First he had learned lessons that he feared he would need to know, he had been wed, he had given away his only true prospect of love, and a week ago he had killed Ptoleus, who at one time he had played with. He'd held him in his arms, until the breath left him, and then it was over. He knew that someone would tell Ptolemy, who would grieve, and who would then break even further away from Cassander and the other companions. He would be on his own now, as Hercules was. In killing Ptoleus he had sealed both of their fates, he had sealed the world's fate.

"Drink," Carmalla said, eyeing Hercules' full cup of wine, unmixed. He shook his head and pushed the goblet away. How could he enjoy the splendors of life when he was not living? He wanted badly to sleep, to be alone, away from them all. He could hear Cassander laughing, could hear Arast playing with other youths as they ran around the room, completely unaware of the dangers of life.

"Are you feeling well," Carmalla then asked, as if she perhaps cared. Hercules knew women, knew them well enough to know that she only worried because without him she would be dead. He'd long before seen the way that Cassander would glance at her, as if he'd known her all of his life, and had hated her the entire time. Yes, he knew well enough that she was just like Roxanne.

"Well enough," he replied, distant.

"You have changed so much," she then responded, falling back against her chair. She then began sipping at her own cup, which had been filled with honey tea. Her husband had not noticed that she was changing, that her behaviors differed with her growing womb. She then shook her head, "It does not take one long to realize it. When I met you there was a passion in your eyes, and now there is nothing. Did they corrupt you so much?"

"Shut up," he spat, grabbing his goblet and standing before he turned another night into a fight with her. More and more he was realizing why Cassander had rid himself of Syrikriah, and why Alexander had chosen to love a man instead. They were more sane, more reasonable, and when they hated one another they were allowed to be separate, for others did not know of their night-time relations.

Done with this, he made his way into the halls, turning and turning until he found himself on his way to his only left sanctuary. He stopped before the door and then carefully pushed it open. It had not been locked for some time. Cassander had lost his key, and had then insisted that Hercules leave the door unlocked so that he too had access to the room. However, Hercules knew upon entering that Cassander had not visited the room. Silence lingered as he crumpled to the floor, his hands stretching out and grabbing at the floor. The flames in the room seemed to dance in the wind, making ornate patterns on the walls, but as the door shut Hercules did not notice. Instead, he continued to weep, glad that none could hear. However, he again heard the voices that had been following him, plaguing his every thought, driving him consistently mad. What had he done to deserve the fate of madness, he wondered, as he placed his hands over his ears, but this did not stop their voices.

"Don't touch him," Hephaestion reminded as he stepped over Hercules' heaped up body. He then knelt and looked over the boy, wanting desperately to reach out and pull him against his chest.

"He cries too much," Alexander stated, joining Hephaestion. As they knelt before him Hercules lifted his head. How cruel were the gods, to show him such things. Hephaestion smiled softly and then averted his eyes, and Hercules followed his trail of thought. Hercules noted the stand, which held Hephaestion's bust, and how the bottom was ajar. Looking back, the cerulean-eyed beauty raised an eyebrow before lacing his fingers in Alexander's.

"I am proud of him," Alexander whispered, his voice soothing, but even now the image before him was fading away. Alexander tilted his head, and Hephaestion thought that perhaps he saw tears glistening in Alexander's eyes. Then, they faded, but they had stopped his sobbing. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up and reached for the ajar drawer. He pulled it open and then stared down at the folded pieces of parchment that remained. One by one he pulled them out, and as he opened them he scanned the words, but he was unsure of what he was looking for. Then, by chance, he found it. It was not addressed to any certain person, but the words were enough.

_…and after that day, in Dorganus' clutches, Hephaestion changed, or something within him did. Dorganus had always been a deserter, and this had caught Alexander's attention perhaps, but never as it had after Dorganus soiled the only true love in the king's life. He raped him, beat him, and would have killed him had Alexander not intervened. He would have, had Hephaestion not been so strong for the time that he was held the captive of a madman…_

It was all that was left, the small scrap of information, the top and bottom burned terribly. Hercules quickly tossed it to the side and then found the next smaller scrap, reading it.

_Hephaestion had always done Alexander's bidding, whether it be warming his bed, commanding his men, building his bridges, or, perhaps, attending to both of their wives. As many were aware, Alexander forced Hephaestion into wedding high ranking women of the lands they conquered. By force, he did not threaten, but simply asked, and Hephaestion would agree. How could he do anything but agree, loving his king so much? So, Hephaestion wed, and did what Alexander next bade him do –he attempted a son to succeed him. _

_It was never a success for Hephaestion, who despite his many valiant attempts always seemed to be cursed by the fates. His first child was lost before the third month, distressing both Hephaestion and Drypetis, but Alexander did not read into the signs from the gods. Instead, he would have encouraged Hephaestion to once more try, and again Hephaestion did. This produced only another miscarriage, this time in the fourth month, when all had calmed, thinking their fears were over. The third time did not prove to benefit Hephaestion either. This time, the child born was stillborn, but had been a son. Hephaestion did not try again, to save Drypetis from sorrows, for another child. Alexander only remedied this by having Hephaestion wed again when they reached Bactria. _

_They must have been a conflict, for Hephaestion truly only loved his beloved Alexander, but again, he allowed for the marriage. Hephaestion made his fourth attempt at an heir, producing another miscarriage. Feeling that this was brought on by his seed, not the womb of two women, Hephaestion then gave up, deciding that he was not meant to have a successor. Alexander surely was against this, but must have known the pain in Hephaestion's heart, and therefore must have sat by and waited. He himself had wed Roxanne, a woman of no noble blood, and tried to have his own heir. This did not go as expected either, but then again, perhaps it never had for Alexander. _

_Alexander had wed Barsine, and for some time had kept her close, though he often did not have time for her. However, she was the most understanding of his wives, and also took to Hephaestion. The two often conversed, and soon enough it was said that all three shared a bed. While the odd rumors were squashed by Hephaestion, and Alexander, there were those that still would have believed it to be so –especially when Barsine became pregnant with Alexander's child. It is utterly possible that Hephaestion, having been asked by his lover, would have sealed a marriage that was not his own. _

The parchment fell from his hands. He then glanced over his shoulder, looking at Cassander. He drew in a breath and then shook his head. How could he have said nothing, knowing this? Cassander leaned against the wall, but he was not willing to say anything, at least not yet. Instead he approached, taking the letter from Hercules, and then crumpled it in his hands. Tossing it away, he then leaned against the wall, and slowly sunk down, until he was sprawled on the floor next to Hercules. He would have said something, but could form no words. It was only an opinion, one that Ptolemy had written long ago, and in truth there was no evidence of any of Ptolemy's claims. Still, this clearly had an effect on Hercules, who now glared at him with the malice of a thousand women scorn.

"It does not matter," Cassander then said. "He too was Alexander."

"It makes all of the difference," Hercules spat, angrily shoving Cassander's hand away from him. He pushed himself up until he was standing before the elder king. "What have you done to me! You have caged me here, and for what? I am not a warrior, I am not a serf, and I am no philosopher, all because you've made sure that I am nothing. And now, you say that I am to take back Alexander's great Empire? But how can this be done if I am not his son? How can it be!"

"Ptolemy is a fool," Cassander assured him, remaining calm though inside he seethed. He would kill Ptolemy, next chance that he got. However, he knew that his youth was far beyond him. He could feel his body breaking beneath him. "He knows nothing of the world, nothing, though he would like to think he does! He created nothing under Alexander, nothing. None of us did anything but follow him, and now that he is gone, we hide in his wealth, in his dreams, in his grand ventures! Bitter, the old man, pharaoh to Egypt, writes to make himself feel better. They are presumptions only!"

"And presumptions are the protégée of disbelief," Hercules cursed. "Tell me, Cassander, who knew Hephaestion and Alexander well, whose child am I? Tell me!"

"Both," Cassander shouted, leaping up as if he were again a boy, wrapping his hands around Hercules' throat as he did so. He shoved his back against the wall and held him there, tightening his grip, but not to the level of danger. He only wanted to startle him. He only wanted to make him see what he saw.

"Why do you complain so, question so? Think of all of the bastard children in the world that would rip your guts out with a dull spoon in order to be in the position you are in. Does it bother you so much that you could be the child of either man? If you are the son of Hephaestion, as your eyes claim, then you are the son of a far greater man. Were you the son of Hephaestion you would be the loyal of the pairing, the reasonable, the rational, the lover, the silent warrior, a far better man! But, were you Alexander's heir, you would be great, as he was! Damn you for wavering either way. Does it truly matter either way, no, it does not, for you are the rightful heir either way!"

Do you know what 'he too is Alexander' even means? There are schoolboys that understand better the significance of Alexander's words. He named him his best general, his chiliarch, his successor should anything happen to him on the field. They were one, tied together heart and soul, body and mind. It does not take a philosopher or a soothsayer to understand this, but you whine and cry like a toddler in a market when he receives no toy. Such a fool," Cassander finished, shaking his head, letting the youth go. "Such a fool."

He was tired, and he did not have the strength to try and reason with the boy. What could he do, other than take him this far? Perhaps Hercules was right. Perchance he did not need to take the Empire back. Alexander could only be the ruler of so large an Empire, or at least, this was what historians were already saying. If they were right, then they were right. Cassander shook his head and exited the room. He continued down the hallway until he heard the clatter of a dish. Cursing under his breath he rounded the corner and then pushed the door to Leassandra's room open. _Where we the guards_, he wondered as he stepped into the room. But as he continued further into the room he felt the shadows closing in around him. It was then, as he rounded the corner, that he truly screamed –none before had heard a cry so loud.

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Hercules bit his tongue to keep from weeping like the women across from him. At his side was Arast, who held firmly to Hercules' free hand. He chewed on his thumb nail, not knowing what else to do as he stared at the shrouded body. The priestess stepped forward, dropping ruby smears of blood over the egg-white drape. She then closed her eyes and waved a burning branch over the body, but none seemed to pay her any attention. Instead, they all stared at Cassander, who stood at the head of the small pyre. He was completely lost to the world, jaw clenched, eyes staring forward, but so dark it was as if they were not there. As soon as the pyre was lit many left, fearing the smell of the death-ashes that would land upon them. Eventually Cassander left as well, and his son went scampering after him. When the gathers left, and the priestess followed, and even the young pup sauntered away, it was Hercules that remained.

Leassandra's ashes soon covered his face, leaving a thin layer of gray on his skin, which soon enough seemed to burn him. His tears came when no one else was around, and he collapsed before the burning heap. The only thing that he had loved was gone. He had not had a chance to tell her that day that he loved her, that he would do anything for her. In fact, he'd not even seen her. Instead, he'd hid himself away, crying over his possible lineage. The past, he knew now, was not the concern of the world. Instead, he should have concerned himself in the now. He could have stood there forever, wondering how things would have been different, but he could only watch as the shroud burned away. Leassandra then lay there, face deathly still, eyes closed eternally. He would have reached out, would have jumped into the flames with her, had someone not approached from behind.

"Come to bed," Carmalla insisted, tapping her foot on the floor and coughing slightly. The ashes did not suit her. Nothing suited her. As she tapped, Hercules turned, rage flaring in his eyes.

"Enough," he hissed, reaching out before he knew what he was doing and wrapping his hands around her neck as Cassander had his. "You did this! You did this! You did this!"

"Did what," she asked, choking. Hercules could no longer understand why he grasped her so. He could not understand all of the anger that was rushing through him.

"You've taken everything from me I've ever loved," he screamed, having no clue as to how much like his father he sounded. He continued to push her back and she began to tear at his chest with her hands.

"Wait! A child…your heir…"

"I want no heir from you," Hercules screamed back, and as she continued to fight he only held her tighter. She still writhed beneath him, and after a moment her eyes began to roll back, but she then stopped him.

"I lied…."

"What," he asked, releasing her throat only so that she was able to speak. Her head fell forward and she placed a hand on his wrist. Already tears were streaming down here face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lips were purple. Already bruises appeared upon her neck.

"My father," she managed to gasp out, "he was Hephaestion's captor. This you must have heard from Cassander, but I swear, I am not Dorganus."

Hercules released her. How could Cassander's treachery be so deep? Saying nothing, Hercules brushed past his wife. He did not wipe the ashes away from him as he entered the palace. He let them stare. He no longer cared what they thought of their prince. He was no longer a prince, he was no longer a man. He had found his place in the world. He was doomed to walk a wraith.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been busy with multiple projects, and one of my best friends just had a baby. What can you do? Let me know what you think.


	13. Heir, Enfin

Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 12 of 12, "Alexander IV, Heir to an Empire"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: Forgive me for that posting update. Truly. Here is your next chapter, and I hope that you like it.

**IMPORTANT****: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read ****THE MISSING**** you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible! **

**Leassandra**: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

**Arast:** Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

**Syrikriah:** Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

**Ptoleus: **Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)

**Dorganus**: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)

**Carmalla: **Car-maul-ah (Dorganus' daughter)

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_A fortnight later…_

The mass of soldiers had breached the Athenian guards. Hercules knew this, and while the palace went into chaos around him, he sat. Others were planning their escapes. Cassander was sending out troops, planning constantly. Yet, what could planning do for them now? Perchance he should not have killed Ptoleus. Ptolemy surely would not be here, not if he had had his son returned to him. Lust-driven with greed, he still did not need to die so meaninglessly. Hercules pushed the thoughts away. They meant nothing to him, not now.

Again he held the note in his hands, and again he examined every word, every single fold, every crease. Again, he noted every one of his tears, where they had splotched the ink, causing her name to blur together. He wondered, who were these gods that watched over them, supposedly to protect them? Did they not protect from heartache? He could have understood if a mother had died in childbirth, if it were a soldier in war, an elder, or perhaps he even understood the deaths of kings and princes now. But Leassandra? Yes, what was it that caused the gods to have let her lift the poison to her mouth? Surely they had known her plans. She was writing the letter to him. Would the gods not have noted this, and then known?

It read the same each time. She was so very proud of him, but feared that things could now never be the same. The death of Ptoleus had stared it, she stated, a chain of events that would now not stop. 'Where does it end,' she asked rhetorically in the letter. Hercules did not know. But he knew it should not have ended with her. She should not have left him, not like this. However, the more he thought about it, the more he succumbed to his depression.

"Am I so much like my father," Hercules asked, drawing in a deep breath. It did not matter that there was no one there to listen to him. Instead, he continued to speak, softly, his voice echoing off of the walls of his room. "Am I so condemned to be the breathing image of Alexander?"

For too long he remained alone, worrying over the subject. He could not answer his constant question, but grief would do him no better. Long after he had entered his chambers, ordering his wife be kept away, he heard a knock upon the door. He glanced over his shoulder as Arast pushed the door further open. He had been crying, his eyes red, and Hercules extended his hand, ushering the child forward. He entered, shutting the door behind him, and nearly collapsed on Hercules' lap. No sooner had he entered did his tears begin to fall.

"I miss her so much," Arast whispered.

"Arast," Hercules then said, pushing him away so that he could better look at him. "Arast, will you do something for me? Will you do something that requires bravery far beyond any that you could know?"

"Of course," he replied, his eyes growing wide at Hercules' urgency. He then rubbed his hand over his burning cheeks. "What? Tell me what, and I will do it. I will. For you. My brother."

"I am going to give you money," the prince explained. "I'm going to give you money, and clothes, all tied up in a pack. I want you to leave here. Leave, and never come back Arast. Never. You're going to hide away in the mountains, living a simple life. Soon, you'll meet a girl, and you'll fall in love. You will live out your life, happy, and when you die an old man, your children will mourn you. History will forget your name, over time, but you will have lived."

"I am scared."

"I know, and I want you to be scared. Be so scared that as you leave you do not turn back."

"What is wrong?"

"I can't explain. Some day, some day I will explain it to you."

"Then you will come find me?"

"Yes," Arast whispered, after taking in a deep breath. He then stood, and took Arast's hand in his own. Together they entered the hall until they reached Arast's room. Hercules bade him sit, and the child gaped at him as he packed his pack for him. Silent, he tied the pack together, and then handed it to Arast, who took it with clear hesitation. He did not want to leave, suddenly, confused on why he needed to do so.

"Must I?"

"I promise," Hercules said kneeling, "that I will be with you."

"And father knows?"

"Of course. He told me to give you this. He said it was a gift from long ago, very sacred. You must never part with it. But since it is so special, you must never show it to others, not ever. Show it to your wife one day, to your children, but not to any stranger."

Hercules handed the ring to Arast, who slid it over his finger. It had belonged to Hephaestion, who had given it to Alexander. In death, it was said, Alexander had given it back to him. Arast stared at the ring and then began to smile. He would likely never know what it was, but still, it was safe with him. Hercules doubted the world would ever change. If it did, Arast could always reclaim the throne. But he wasn't going to mention it. Power ruined lives.

"Be brave, Arast. You are of Kings."

"Should I say goodbye to father?

"No, there is no need. He knows you are leaving. Besides, he is busy with the regent army. Go. He might see you as you leave the back gates. Be careful; act as if this is a hunt for a wild boar."

Arast soon left, and Hercules sat back on his haunches. He then stood, and as he exited the room he pulled the dagger tucked at his side from his belt. However, upon entering Cassander's rooms, his work had already been done for him. Gasping, Cassander was spread out on his bed, staring upward. Hercules replaced the dagger, and then came to the edge of the bed before. Yes, he had seen this poison's work before.

"You couldn't wait," Hercules asked, taking a seat beside Cassander. He took his hand. In truth, it comforted him more than it could Cassander. Cassander seemed to laugh, but he could have been coughing. His eyes smiled clear enough though.

"Were you wishing to do it yourself?"

"Of all you have taught me, you taught a lesson without meaning to. You see, this Empire, it was nothing. It was sand, paid for in blood. Do you know what the Empire was, truly? It was hope. Alexander hoped he could gain glory far enough from Olympias, Hephaestion hoped to earn his love, you hoped for power, I have hoped for acceptance, so I may have the blood stained sand back. Ah, how foolish men are for dirt."

"It is yours…"

"Men cannot own anything but their heart, their mind, their thoughts. It doesn't matter, I have decided, if I am the son of a king, or a companion, or a whore. It matters not. What matters is, my life is meaningless without Leassandra. I've nothing left. And tell me…why have you stirred the poison from years long passed?"

"For you. To regain…"

"You should have waited for Ptolemy's wrath," Hercules replied. "Perhaps you could have thrown me into a bargain. Alas, I am afraid, your fall from power has given me my demise. They'll kill me too."

"Flee…"

"And cause clan upon clan war, death for your guards, death for all who stand between your deathbed and Ptolemy's frontlines? No. I think I'll wait in my room. When Ptolemy comes, he can kill me, and I will be free."

"Arast?"

"Safe. That is all you must know," Hercules assured him, holding his hand as Cassander's body began to tremble. His eyes then closed as he took his last breaths. "He will be forever safe."

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_Alexandria, 309 BC _

_The child rubbed his head as his father tucked the sheet around him. Still he did not understand who this Alexander the Great was, or what was just so great about wandering around the desert. His father soon finished, and then he smiled back at him, closing the small book that he held. Again it had been Homer, and again he had been enamored with Achilles, whose valor was itself the story. He would never be outdone, this Achilles, but his father had always said Alexander had outdone him. Well, he would have to hear more about this king. His father, in his age, might just be wrong. _

_"But what happened to Arast," the boy asked, referring to the story his father had begun after finishing the battle of Troy. His father laughed for a moment, and then shook his head. _

_"When you are older, my son."_

_"Now. Please? I will go to sleep immediately after you tell me what happened to Arast. What happened to Hercules? Was he killed, as he predicted?"_

_"Oh yes," his father replied, matter of factly. "Hercules did await for Ptolemy to arrive, and when he arrived, he took his heart. Ironic, we all grieve for those we love, but take vengeance upon them –Ptolemy did not consider the mistake he made, not until it was too late. Alexander's family line was gone. We'll never get him back."_

_"And Arast? How far did he make it?"_

_"Arast reached Alexandria, ironically, and lived his life out in the hills. He fell in love with the daughter of a camel breeder. When the old man died, he gave everything to his son-in-law. When Arast died, never again seeing Hercules, but waiting for him even when he learned the truth, he was sixty-five years old, and had nine children, and countless grandchildren." _

_"A happy death?"_

_"He was free." _

_"And the ring? What happened to the ring?"_

_"Oh," the father said, toying with the ring on his hand, which looked like just another ornament to another, "it lies in wait, somewhere near Alexandria, I would think." _

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ENFIN.

A/N: If you don't like the ending, let me know, but I'm not changing it. But really, read and review. See you all again soon!

A/N2: In my next story, I'm going back to my roots. Pure Hephaestion/Alexander love, and Alexander/Hephaestion angst.


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